


The Pull of Heart and Tide

by NamiSazanami



Series: Swallowed by the Sea [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamiSazanami/pseuds/NamiSazanami
Summary: The white gulls had not stopped calling to Legolas since that fateful day, and the sea-longing in his blood continues to grow ever stronger. But King Thranduil is determined to keep his son in Greenwood for as long as possible. His answer comes in the form of an unexpected child, one who comes to pull on Legolas’ heart more powerfully than the call of the Sea ever could.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Haerelion means ‘distant star’.

The Pull of Heart and Tide  
~...~

It was the end of the Third Age and the beginning of the Fourth.

Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Gandalf, Frodo, and Bilbo had all departed for the Undying Lands on the Last Ship from Middle Earth. Legolas, son of King Thranduil, would have been among them if not for his father and his duties as son and prince. But having recently awakened the dormant sea-longing in his Sindarin blood, it was really only a matter of time and formality before he would follow in their wake.

So parting with his friends and comrades five years after the end of the war, Legolas finally picked up his feet and made his way back home to Mirkwood, now Greenwood, to confront his father on matters pulling most ardently at his heart.

He had been gone only a handful of years, little more than a hiccup in the reckoning of the Elves, yet it was the longest stretch of time Legolas had ever been away from the green woods of his home. As such, upon his return he naturally expected a celebration at the least, knowing his father to be endearingly over-affectionate in the affairs of his only son.

Yet his return to Greenwood turned out to be far different from what Legolas had expected. His homecoming, it would seem, was not the only thing to be celebrated by his people. For while Legolas was away with the Fellowship, putting an end to Sauron’s reign of terror once and for all with the destruction of the One Ring, an elven child had been born.

A child that was fated to change the course of time and tide, as Legolas knew it.  
...

Legolas looked down at the roughly six month old, elven child sleeping peacefully in his cradle. With his raven hair and pale, moonlit skin, it was assumed by all that he was a Silvan Elf, though no one could be quite certain. For though the birth of an elven child is a rare and wonderful, auspicious event, celebrated from its very conception, this child’s welcome into the Elven Community was also marked by sadness and shrouded in mystery.

“He was brought to the Halls by the eagles,” King Thranduil informed Legolas as his son continued to stare down at the child. “We suspect his parents were killed, though we can’t be sure for none of the other elven realms have any knowledge of his conception or birth. It’s all quite the enigma at the moment.”

“What is his name?” Legolas asked, tilting his head to the side to regard the child with a curious, compassionate stare. Legolas had grown up without one parent, but he was lucky enough to have his father. This child was without both parents; a tragedy of no small measure.

He still had yet to hold, let alone touch the child for fear of harming something so small and so delicate – something that must be protected at all costs. Legolas himself was the last elven child in Greenwood and he had not encountered any other elven children since. He wouldn’t know how to even begin to properly hold a baby.

His father, however, put an end to that tentativeness as he answered, “Haerelion; a bright star to herald in a bright new age,” and then picked up the sleeping child and laid him firmly in Legolas’ arms. Making sure he was cradling his head up and that his arms were positioned properly, Thranduil stayed close for a moment before stepping back and looking at Legolas in satisfaction.

“He has no family and no one to care for him.” Thranduil hesitated for a moment, but Legolas hardly noticed as his whole attention was now fixated on the babe in his arms.

Legolas distantly listened to his father while his eyes swept softly over the tiny face relaxed in sleep, the small hands curled at Haerelion’s side, into his body, and down to the tiny toes that flexed and wiggled against the soft fabric of Legolas’ tunic.

“It has been so long since you were a child, and I thought... it would be lovely to hear the sounds of a child’s laughter again, its cries and small feet running through these hallowed halls once more.” Thranduil looked at his son for a moment and smiled at the sweet picture playing out in front of him before forging on, “I know he will never be a brother to you, but I want you to help look after him, all the same, as if he were; help me raise him as an Elf of Greenwood, and, even... well, perhaps even a Prince of Greenwood.”

Legolas looked up at that, startled. He was his father’s only son, born little less than a year before his mother departed for the Undying Lands. Was his father wanting for another child?

“But he is not Sindar,” Legolas said dumbly, knowing that anyone with eyes could see that he did not carry the trademark fair hair or have the traditional square facial structure, Haerelion’s face was much more oval in shape and his hair as dark as a raven’s wing. But only the Sindar folk had ruled in Middle Earth. And why would his father, a rigid traditionalist if there ever was one, change convention for one small child?

“No,” his father answered heavily, his face crossed with an unreadable expression, and Legolas got the feeling he wasn't just agreeing with the heritage of the child. “But,” he paused, and a look of such love and amazement on his face created a whole new demeanour on the old king, “He is such a beautiful child. Much as you were,” the king said softly, lost in memory. “And his eyes, Legolas. Elven poets can do them no justice,” he insisted, reaching up to caress the child’s head gently, “they are bright stars fell from the heavens; I can hear the earth and trees telling me yet that this child will be special.”

Legolas gazed back down on the child and for the first time wished to wake him from his slumber, just to see these wondrous jewels that had his father so taken.

“Also,” Thranduil added, bringing his son out of his current reverie with a hard, regret-laden voice that held more than just a hint of fear, “I know about the prophecy, Legolas.”

Every inch of Legolas froze. If it weren’t for the child in his arms moving in discomfort from the sudden wariness in the air and the palpable sorrow and guilt festering between father and son, he would have fled where he stood.

The prophecy. Legolas breathed in deeply and sighed, his mind running a mile a minute while he did his best to gently sway the child back to a restful sleep in his arms. He’d not had the heart to tell his father yet about his experience as one of the Nine Walkers; he was hoping he’d have more time to ease his father into it. And he had planned to save his foretold death sentence for the end.

A death sentence that had already been triggered:

 _Legolas Greenleaf, long under_ tree _,_  
 _In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!_  
 _If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,_  
 _Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more._

They were dark words foretelling of Legolas’ departure from Middle Earth forever. And having only just returned from the Grey Havens, Mithlond, less than a month ago, it was too soon to put such heavy words on his father’s already burdened shoulders. No father should ever have to bear such a fate for his son.

Now was meant to be a time of celebration and joy for Haerelion’s birth and welcome to Greenwood, as well as Legolas’ return, and the end of the War five years ago.

“Lady Galadriel sent word of warning before her departure, and I am glad she did.” Thranduil gazed steadily at his son and swallowed thickly. “I know I cannot keep you here once the call of the sea has been awakened in your blood. But I would have you stay with me for as long a time as I can stretch from Eru.”

Thranduil laid a hand on Legolas’ shoulder and let his gaze trace fondly over Legolas’ face as though trying to memorise every detail and hold everything that was Legolas in his mind.

“Be a part of this family for Haerelion. Stand by me, my son, and help me raise this child, at least until he reaches maturity and is able to fend for himself.”

Legolas wished he had a hand free to staunch the glistening liquid building up in his eyes. But though he now knew that this child was being used as a bargaining tool for his father to keep him here in Middle Earth that much longer, he also had no desire to let the child go. His decision was made for him the moment his father had laid Haerelion in his arms. He knew without a doubt that he would fight the Valar themselves to see this child grow up and ensure that he was there for him every step of the way.

An elf took one hundred years before they reached full maturity and wouldn’t grow anymore. One hundred years was a long time for an elf whose heart was pining for the Sea, but Legolas also had a feeling that the years would end up passing in the blink of an eye where this child was concerned.

“Yes, my Lord, I will stay and care for the child.” Legolas finally looked up into his father’s eyes and smiled. “He will make a fine prince for Greenwood, Father.”

Legolas’ sights were no longer set on building an elven community by the River Anduin, he was now committed to spending his remaining years on Middle Earth caring for this elven babe. Oh the wonders of Middle Earth he would show this child, the possibilities seemed endless yet, even with the knowledge that he only had a hundred years to live.

...  
6 years later  
...

“Legolas, Legolas,” Haerelion’s breathless voice called up to him from the base of the ancient elm tree, followed by the sound of hurried feet and hands scrambling to find purchase on the smooth bark of the trunk. From up in his talan, where he had been pouring over a set of scrolls for a bit of light reading, Legolas looked up as he heard Haerelion’s approach.

Quickly setting his scrolls aside, Legolas settled himself back in his chair and waited until he saw the crown of black hair push its way up through the opening in the floor, by the trunk, followed by the excited, smiling face of Greenwood’s youngest elf.

Like a flash of lightning, Haerelion darted to Legolas’ side the moment he was in the talan and began digging something out of his pockets.

The young elf came just up to Legolas’ waist now, but he was not yet so big that Legolas could no longer pick him up and set him on his lap when he came calling, which is precisely what he did the moment Haerelion found what he was looking for and proceeded to attempt to hide it from view in his clutched fists.

Legolas smiled at the pure, childish excitement radiating in the bright green eyes that put the newborn leaf to shame, which were suddenly turned toward him.

“What wind has spurred your feet to fly to my side so swiftly?” Legolas inquired, dropping a tender kiss on the child’s forehead.

Haerelion titled his head up to look at Legolas once the older elf had pulled back. “I have a surprise for you!” he exclaimed theatrically, leaning forward until the crown of his head was almost touching Legolas’ chin.

“For me?” Legolas asked, feigning surprise as he picked Haerelion up again and adjusted him to a more comfortable position in his lap. “What have I done to deserve such a treat?”

Haerelion shook his head with a smile. “You don’t know what it is yet, so how can you tell if you’ll like it?”

Legolas reached up and stroked a hand through Haerelion’s long, black hair, which was once again loose from his running. Legolas turned the younger one’s head and made to gather some of the top pieces of hair on either side and plait them away from Haerelion’s eyes and out of his face, doing so without thought as it had become a daily, necessary habit each time Haerelion arrived.

“You coming to visit me is always enough of a treat, of course,” he said easily as his fingers deftly finished tying up Haerelion’s hair in a matter of seconds.

Haerelion turned his head back to Legolas when the older elf was done. “I see you every day, and spend most nights here,” he pointed out with a thoughtful, bemused look on his face.

Legolas lowered his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “Which means I am one lucky elf to get such a treat every day.” His hand once again brushed the silken waterfall of hair tumbling over the child’s shoulder and looked expectantly into his eyes. “Now, what have you got to show me?”

A wide grin that threatened to break his face in two spread over Haerelion’s lips. He held his head high and his breath deep in his lungs with an air of anticipation before thrusting his hands open before him and declaring, “This!”

Nestled neatly in his palms was a silver crafted scallop shell, and right atop it, in the middle, was a small, rough-hewn wooden starfish that looked to have been attached rather crudely as Legolas could see the clumps of glue holding it together and still drying. Haerelion had attached a piece of twine to the edges of the base of the shell and used it to sling the piece around Legolas’ neck to rest against his chest as a necklace.

“I found another of Adar’s rooms! I think he moved some things since the last time he came here, but he doesn’t know I’ve found this new one yet, so I thought it would be best to take only one thing at a time. I shall look through it again later and see if I can find more to sneak away, if you like.”

Legolas smiled at the child’s bravery and sweet nature. Haerelion was of course referring to the fact that King Thranduil, in an attempt to convince his son to stay in Middle Earth, had hidden all things related to the sea from him in many different little rooms within his network of caves and halls. Not that there were many such treasures in Greenwood, but the few there were he kept buried and scattered. There was an unspoken law in place as well that no items of the sea be allowed past the Greenwood borders.

Legolas knew that folk had little reason to worry, as seldom few had anything to do with the sea. It was the men who came to visit Greenwood, usually with the intent of using its vast library and maintaining good relations with the king, that were the problem. Every nautical item that passed the entrance to the king’s halls was immediately confiscated and spirited away to a hidden locale.

But their little Haerelion was nothing if not an energetic child looking for a challenging adventure to colour his days, as well as remarkably resourceful as an elf.

And though mature as any elf his age would be, Haerelion still did not completely understand the nature of Legolas’ sea-longing, nor the motives behind Thranduil’s rule. In pure childish fashion, he took it to mean just that, a longing for the sea and the sea alone, of which he was more than happy to help Legolas soothe with gifts of shells, jars of sand, and sea-softened rocks he had found in said secret rooms. He understood at least that Legolas could not go to the sea now, which was why he was determined to bring the sea to Legolas.

Both father and son, however, understood that it was not so much a calling to live in the sea or by the sea, as a ceaseless pull to finish the journey his ancestors had started ages ago to sail west to Valinor, ‘the Blessed Realm’. However, the term sea-longing and all that it symbolised was also known to wake up a deeper love of the sea than most elves possessed. Even being by the salty air would ease the ache in his heart, but ultimately it would drive him ever closer to his final journey into the West.

But Haerelion was still young and naïve in the ways of the world, let alone the secrets within the bloodlines of the Sindar elves, and Legolas did not plan on explaining any of this to Haerelion any time soon.

“I whittled this myself,” Haerelion said, pointing to the starfish on Legolas’ chest. “It didn’t look right just as a silver piece for some reason. It needed a bit of Greenwood as well, so I carved it from a branch on the old fell beech outside the archway in the kitchen.”

Legolas nodded, he knew the one Haerelion was referring to, and he did agree that the wooden starfish did add that final touch to an otherwise simple piece. And yet it was still simple and humble in the way it mixed Legolas’ two loves perfectly, Greenwood and the sea. The fact that it was Haerelion who had made it and given it to him made it all the more special and perfect. Legolas would wear it proudly, and told Haerelion as much.

“Or you can place it on a branch underneath the talan when you are here and take it off whenever you go out, especially to see Adar, that way I can always tell whether you’re home or not!”

Legolas nodded in agreement, more than willing to participate in whatever idea Haerelion had. It warmed his heart that the young elf saw Legolas’ place as his own personal playhouse where he could escape from the watchful eyes of Adar and the servants and just have fun. Legolas was more than happy to provide that hideaway, knowing all too well what it was like growing up as the only child in Greenwood, in the confines of the Halls.

As it was, in many ways he considered his talan to be Haerelion’s too, Haerelion having ‘helped’ him build the tree house a year ago. It seemed that after finding out what other treasures and mysteries Middle Earth had to offer, he could no longer confine himself in his adar’s cavernous tunnels either, which was why he more than understood Haerelion’s penchant for spending half his time here with Legolas.

Legolas picked up the shell and traced his finger over the wooden carving, humming as he did so.

Haerelion squirmed in his lap and pointed out the starfish, laying his finger next to Legolas’. “I had seen one of those in one of the books in the library Adar had hidden and I tried to make it look like the one in the picture, but it was kind of hard.” He slumped his shoulders, a pout coming to form on his face as he looked at his less than perfect handiwork.

“It’s perfect,” Legolas argued firmly, leaving no room for rebuttal. “You are too sweet to me.” He smiled, resting another kiss on the child’s forehead.

Haerelion shook his head fervently, the light of excitement returning to his eyes. “You're my best friend, Legolas. I would do anything for you,” he exclaimed adamantly with the youthful exuberance only a child could give.

It was amazing, Legolas thought, that one so young had captured his heart so easily and completely. There was little doubt in his mind that Haerelion was one of the most important people in his life, sharing that title with only his father and members of the Fellowship. And it seemed inconceivable not having the child in his life.

“You are my best friend as well, Haerelion.” Legolas smiled softly, carding a hand through his hair like his father used to do for him when he was younger.

Haerelion’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “Really,” he asked, “Are you sure? What about the dwarf, Gimli, who you went travelling with through Middle Earth? Or King Elessar, who you visit in Gondor? You’ve known them much longer, and even went to war with them.” He said it as though the act of going to war together decided everything and Legolas was mad for thinking differently, which brought forth an amused chuckle from Legolas at his naïve assurance of the stark black and white rules of the world. Or, in Haerelion’s case, everything was green or not green.

“They must be more important than me,” he finished, putting his small hands on Legolas’ stomach and leaning forward as though trying to push the lie out of Legolas before it went any further.

Legolas shook his head and took the boy’s hands and cupping them between both of his own. He recalled the last – and only – time Gimli had visited him in Greenwood, given Greenwood’s usual ‘warm’ welcoming of dwarves. Haerelion had made himself scarce while Legolas showed the dwarf around his home while doing his best to avoid as many of its inhabitants as possible.

Haerelion had seemed almost threatened by Gimli and his presence. It was this and this alone that stayed Legolas from joining Gimli on his next venture to Lothlórien, knowing already that Haerelion would choose not to join them as Legolas had originally hoped. Legolas thought he might understand why now.

“No,” Legolas said firmly, “Gimli and Aragorn are like brothers to me, and we do have a very deep bond of friendship that I cherish dearly, but you will always come first.”

“Always?” Haerelion asked tentatively, reaching out and curling his hands into fists again to grasp the front of Legolas’ tunic, holding fast. “You’ll always be my best friend?”

“Illumë,” Legolas promised. And though he knew he still planned to leave once Haerelion reached maturity, he did not hesitate to make that promise and did not let his thoughts linger on it for too long. (Q. Always)

“Now that you mention it, though, I was just writing a letter to Aragorn in reply to his last missive. He has asked me to come and visit and would like to meet you as well. Will you accompany me to Gondor? It is beautiful to behold any time of the year, though especially in the spring. And Lady Arwen thinks you’ll get along splendidly with their son Eldarion, who’s only a couple years younger than you.”

Legolas knew then that he had solved the problem when instead of shying away and begging off travelling from Greenwood with random excuses, Haerelion jumped on the opportunity and immediately asked when they would leave.

“We will talk to father in the morning. That is, if you plan on staying here tonight?”

“Of course,” Haerelion said as though it had already been long decided. He hopped down from Legolas’ lap and made his way over to the entrance in the floor. “I took some pastries and fresh fish from the stream for our meal tonight.” Haerelion kneeled down and reached below. “I got your favourite,” he said, though Legolas was sure that meant Haerelion’s favourite which Legolas happened to enjoy as well.

“Perfect,” Legolas said, clapping his hands in preparation as Haerelion’s head re-emerged, his hands clutching a small basket filled with delicious smells that already had Legolas’ mouth watering.

He had not been planning a heavy meal, maybe an apple and a bit of bread. But at the sight and smell of the food, Legolas was suddenly famished.

Working flawlessly together as they’d had much practise doing since Legolas moved to his own talan, the two prepared dinner and settled down for a nice, fun evening together.

...

Much later, lying atop the roof of the talan closest to the upper-most branches of the elm, Legolas and Haerelion gazed quietly at the stars. At times like these, with only the music of the crickets for company, it seemed like they were the only two around for miles and miles, and all that existed was the wide expanse of dark sky and bright lights laid out before them.

“Legolas,” Haerelion whispered softly, breaking the comfortable silence and immediately garnering the older elf’s attention.

Legolas rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows the same time Haerelion did, resting his chin on his palm to look at Haerelion from the side; the young elf, however, stared determinedly straight ahead.

“What is it, Haerelion?” Legolas whispered, reaching up a hand to run it comfortingly down the other’s back. “What’s wrong?”

Taking in a deep breath, Haerelion said, “There is something else I wanted to tell...show you.”

Legolas waited patiently. He wondered what could be so serious that Haerelion wouldn’t even look at him to say it.

“Um, you saw Mithrandir using magic, didn't you?” Haerelion had sucked up all the stories about the War of the Rings and the Fellowship from Legolas, especially stories about Mithrandir and his magic, so Legolas was hardly surprised with the question. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, which had Legolas wondering what Haerelion was then leading up to.

“Yes. He did not use his magic often, but when he did, it was magnificent.” Legolas smiled indulgingly, knowing how much Haerelion liked the stories of Mithrandir especially.

“Like in Rohan when he saved the king?” Haerelion exclaimed, earlier hesitancy forgotten in the excitement of a story as he leant even closer to Legolas as though in anticipation of another of his famous stories.

“Exactly,” Legolas nodded, leaning forward as well until their faces were millimetres apart, and lowering his voice like this information was meant for Haerelion’s ears alone, “but he also used his magic for little things sometimes –”

“Like what?” Haerelion asked before the words had finished leaving Legolas’ mouth.

“Like starting the fire on a damp night, or lighting our way through Moria,” Legolas shuddered at the memories even mentioning the name brought up. Haerelion seemed to sense this, and reached up to put a hand on Legolas’ cheek.

“Don’t be sad, he came back, didn’t he? The Valar sent him back and he helped win the war,” Haerelion said soothingly, genuinely caring with a purity only a child can. Legolas smiled again, took Haerelion’s hand and kissed the inside of his palm.

“Yes, he did come back,” Legolas smiled as Haerelion settled back again to hear the story, “and he performed some of the greatest magic I’d ever seen.”

With Haerelion’s eyes lit up, Legolas let the suspense build up a bit more before going into the story of how Gandalf had taken Shadowfax, one of the Mearas, rode through Fanghorn, and saved the King of Rohan, a favourite of Haerelion’s. But instead of sitting back and letting Legolas continue with his tale, Haerelion stopped him before Legolas had even properly begun and argued, “But you said he did other little things as well. Like what?”

Taken aback, Legolas blinked a couple times, his mouth open in surprise, and sat there staring at Haerelion before he could even begin to recall other such incidences.

“Well, uh, occasionally he would perform simple party tricks to amuse the hobbits when they were feeling particularly downtrodden and homesick. It tended to get smiles even out of Boromir and Gimli, though they would have denied any such thing.”

Haerelion visibly sat up straighter. “Really?” An expression of hope flitted across his face, and Legolas doubted he was asking about Gimli and Boromir. But a moment later the look was hidden as Haerelion lowered his head to contemplate the bark beneath him. “Then...” Haerelion trailed off as he rolled over and sat cross-legged, facing Legolas. More than curious, Legolas sat up and did the same. “Did Mithrandir do things like this?”

Legolas watched as Haerelion picked up three small elm fruits, still in their bur covering, and held them all in his open palm.

Haerelion glanced up at Legolas once before looking back down at the fruit. Legolas wondered whether the little elf was going to attempt some slight-of-hand trick or juggling act he had learnt, but what greeted his eyes was a very different kind of trick entirely.

Of seemingly their own volition, the three burs rose into the air above Haerelion’s hand and began spinning and twirling and flipping over one another in succession with no set pattern Legolas could see, getting faster and faster by the second.

Absently, in a part of his mind not struck dumb and frozen, Legolas thought that the hobbits might have related a tale of Mithrandir doing a similar trick for the entertainment of the little ones in the Shire. But then his words shrivelled in his throat as the fruits, one by one, turned to water before his eyes and fell into Haerelion’s cupped hands, yet not one drop spilled over the edges of his palms or dripped from between his fingers.

After a second or so of staring at the unmoving water, Haerelion opened his hands and let the water fall, which it did in slow motion, as though Haerelion had paused time itself to let the water flow slowly to the ground like sands in an hourglass. And then just as the water touched bark, it changed again. Into a nautilus, which Haerelion proceeded to pick up and present to Legolas.

“Angol,” Legolas breathed, taking the shell in his hands and running his fingers along every inch of its surface, looking for any weak points or proof that it had once been liquid. But he found nothing. It was a shell. A real shell. And Legolas would be hard pressed to pick it out as anything but. “How are you doing this?” (Magic)

All elves possessed a form of magic from their deep connection with nature, but it was through said innate bond that it was achieved, allowing them to bend nature to their will somewhat. This...This was something different entirely. The ease with which he changed the very essence of the things in his hands, from solid burs to liquid to a real, hard shell, was incredible, and like nothing Legolas had ever seen before.

Haerelion shrugged, as if he did not see the significance of it in the least. His whole body was much more relaxed than the anxious state it had been in before telling Legolas, as though he had somehow been calmed by the act of magic flowing through his body. “I don't know,” he said, shaking his head. “I just think it and it happens.”

He looked up at Legolas again, showing the uncertainty and fear that were slowly creeping back into his mien. “I was trying to find a way to get that silver shell for you without Adar noticing. It was up high on the shelf and I couldn’t reach it and I knew if I climbed and fell, or hit something someone would come running, so I just reached up my hand and next thing I knew, the shell was falling into it!” As he spoke, his own disbelieving amazement at what he had done shone through as his eyes widened and his mouth curved into a half-formed smile, though the nervous hunch of shoulders was still present.

“It just happened,” he said, with all the honest enthusiasm of naivety, and then looked up at Legolas with an open expression on his face, waiting on the older elf’s judgment.

Legolas could not think of what to say to that right away, still feeling like his voice and breath had been stolen from him the moment Haerelion had set the burs in the air. But Haerelion seemed to take this silence as rejection, for after a moment he slumped into himself and look down between his crossed legs at his now empty hands. He licked his lips quickly before asking in a quivering voice, “Is that how Mithrandir did it?”

Putting the shell down gently at his side, Legolas leant forward and scooped Haerelion up in his arms, holding him against his chest and offering him the only assurance he could give at the moment. “I do not know. Mithrandir did rarely use his magic, and I had never seen anything so amazing as that before.”

“Why did he not use his magic often?” Haerelion clung to Legolas, resting his head on the blonde’s shoulder, still tense, even as Legolas carded his fingers through his fine black hair.

“I,” Legolas took a breath to steady himself, still reeling from the shock and trying to answer all of Haerelion’s questions and give the boy the approval and attention he desired, while working the puzzle of events out in his head. “I believe he said that relying on it too much was not good. I’m not sure why exactly; I never thought to ask him.”

“So I should stop?” Haerelion asked in a whisper so faint that only an elf would have ever been able to hear it. Luckily, Legolas was an elf.

Not stopping in his ministrations on Haerelion’s hair, Legolas pushed the boy back from him a bit to run his other hand down the side of Haerelion’s face. “You should do whatever feels right.”

Legolas breathed a sigh of relief when Haerelion seemed to take comfort in his words and nodded.

“But how am I able to do that?” Haerelion pointed to the shell by Legolas’ thigh. “Elves can’t do that,” he said with conviction. “Am I not an elf?” He looked at Legolas as though he expected the older elf to have all the answers. Legolas felt his heart break, just a little, knowing that he didn’t.

But there was one thing he knew that he could share with Haerelion that might ease his mind for now. As Haerelion was an orphan whose parents were unknown, Legolas would admit that anything could be possible, but he was also sure that Haerelion was an elf, whether full-blooded, half, or even a quarter, it didn't matter. He was an elf and he held a dear place in Legolas’ heart.

“Have you ever heard the story of Elwë and Melian?” He said finally in lieu of a direct answer.

Haerelion shook his head. “Who were they?”

“The Elven High-King who became enchanted and fell in love with a beautiful Maia.”

“A Maia?”

“Like Mithrandir,” Legolas lowered his voice further in dramatic effect.

It had the exact reaction he was expecting. Haerelion’s eyes widened, if possibly, more in excitement. Holding his breath, he bounced in Legolas’ hold and cried, “Tell it, oh please, tell it!”

Chuckling quietly, Legolas tightened his hold on the child, reassured that nothing was wrong with him and he was safe. Legolas decided to put his worries aside for the moment and share with Haerelion this piece of history that had both elves and magic. Perhaps Lady Arwen, being a direct descendent of the legendary Lúthien, daughter of Elwë and Melian, might know more.

“It was the First Age,” Legolas began, “and Elwë had just returned from the Valinor, back to Middle Earth to fetch the Teleri Elves...”

...  
9 years later  
...

“I don’t want to ride Arod with you this time, Legolas. Please,” Haerelion entreated plaintively. They were making their way to the stables, their adar just a few steps behind them, here to see them off.

“I’m more than old enough to be riding my own horse, and Celephind is more than up for the journey. He’s not had a good run in so long.”

Legolas threw a patronisingly sympathetic smile at him over his shoulder as he draped his pack over Arod’s back. The smell of the horses and the stables rose up to greet him. “You know it is not my decision, Haerelion.” He nodded to their adar who had just entered the stables, long robes of deep green and silver dragging along the straw-covered floor, and Haerelion made a beeline towards the older elf.

“Ada,” he pleaded, eyes wide and face dropped in childish exasperation like he couldn’t believe they were even considering making him ride with Legolas. He was 15, for all that was blessed in the Valinor!

The king regarded his son with stern eyes for several moments. “And what if something should happen on the road?” He asked, though Legolas could tell he was just teasing the young man at this point.

“We won’t get separated,” Haerelion rolled his eyes, “I’ll stay close to Legolas’ side and fight with my sword and magic while Legolas fights with his bow and knives,” he said in a well-rehearsed voice as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

The king frowned for a moment. “You let Legolas take the lead. And don’t rely on your magic too much, you know that worries me.” Though Thranduil was not opposed to Haerelion using his magic, he was still wary of Haerelion teaching himself something so dangerous with no guidance. But since there was no Istari around in Middle Earth anymore who could help, there was little he could do to stop the boy from practising his Eru-given talent. At the same time, he was incredibly proud of his son and was never short of praise when Haerelion came to him after having mastered some impressive new skill or technique.

Magic was strong in Haerelion; Legolas would speculate that the young elf could surpass Lúthien herself in power, and beauty. In Legolas’ opinion, having seen him grow, Haerelion was surely created after the very star for which he was named, and what a bright and shining star he was. Legolas now had no doubt of his father’s words when he had first set Haerelion in his arms, this boy was going to be great.

It was this constantly growing skill and talent Haerelion showed that had earned him his second name, or his amilessë. Though normally given by the mother and a bit later in life, Legolas, seeing Haerelion’s progress and astonishing skill and maturity, had taken it upon himself to bestow Haerelion with the name Elingollor, Starmage, in honour of his strength in magic and status as a wizard.

It was a name he knew Haerelion cherished greatly, though few had the privilege of being so close to the young prince to use it besides Legolas and their father.

“And stay on the road, at all times,” Thranduil continued, giving off a list of rules that Haerelion and Legolas both were plenty familiar with.

Haerelion just nodded placatingly to Thranduil and stood eager at attention, awaiting his father’s final words with fingers crossed behind his back.

Legolas knew it would be cruel to make him wait much longer.

Relenting with a smile, Thranduil conceded, “Yes, I think you are old enough to ride your own horse. But only because it is just to the Shire. Admirable hobbits,” he said to no one in particular, eyes shining as he rubbed his thumb absently underneath his chin, “not like those pesky dwarves,” Thranduil muttered darkly. But only Legolas heard him and forcibly busied himself in helping Haerelion prepare Celephind to prevent another argument from breaking out. If a few minutes later he bade his father a colder farewell than normal, no one seemed to notice.

And not long after, Legolas and Haerelion were passing through the gates of the city, heading west.

“We’re not really just going to visit the hobbits, are we?” Haerelion asked under his breath, mindful of the small guard detail a mile behind them. “I mean, I do want to meet Merry, Pippin, and Samwise, but hobbits can hardly be expected to be all that entertaining for several months.” Haerelion shook his head like Legolas couldn’t possibly argue with him on this.

Hiding a smile, Legolas discretely shook his head. Of course Haerelion would figure out his plan. He didn't know why he bothered trying to surprise his friend any more. “We will be heading south to Rivendell after we visit the Shire.”

“To see the twins,” Haerelion exclaimed, his eyes lighting up at the thought. “And then?”, Haerelion drawled out expectantly.

Legolas let loose a chuckle. “And then even further south towards Gondor to see Aragorn and Arwen.”

“That’s it?” Haerelion asked, slumping in his seat in disappointment. Though knowing how much he adored Aragorn’s whole family and visiting the White City, Legolas did not take offense on his friend’s behalf. He knew what Haerelion was hoping for, the boy having been dropping several less-than-discreet hints to Legolas for months now.

Not having the heart to lead him on any longer, Legolas leant sideways on Arod to whisper in Haerelion’s ear, “And then to the Glittering Caves beneath Helm’s Deep.”

“Yes! I knew it!” Haerelion pumped his fist in the air in front of him and then whipped his head around to grin blindingly at Legolas. “The Dwarves. I get to meet the Dwarves!”

Despite their father’s continued animosity toward the Dwarves, Haerelion had made up his own mind about them, choosing to follow Legolas’ words instead. And though he had shied away from Gimli the last and only time the dwarf had been in Greenwood, Haerelion had been more than eager for the opportunity to make a better impression on the infamous dwarf ever since.

“Master Gimli can teach me how to swing an axe!” Haerelion’s hushed declaration had Legolas swinging his head around in alarm.

His surprise tempered just enough for him to choke out, “You want to learn to swing an axe?”

“Of course! And then maybe I can see them at work in the mines. Do you think they’d allow that? Do you think they’d let me help make something?”

“I have no doubt,” Legolas said weakly, wondering what he had created, though none the less proud of Haerelion for it.

It was clear by the look on his face that this trip had just altered from being a simple, safe outing to visit some old hobbit friends, to an adventure ever worthy of the name in Haerelion’s mind. And it was clear that he couldn’t wait a second more to get to their first destination and start it.

“Race you there!” the young lad declared, urging Celephind into a gallop without looking back, giving Legolas no choice but to follow, all the while shaking his head and laughing delightedly as he spurred on his steed. An adventure indeed!

...

35 years later  
...

It was only midmorning and the surrounding forest was singing with life and movement, the sun above warming the two companions’ backs as they rode. But the silence that stretched between them was anything but relaxing. Tense, awkward, and uncomfortable, in fact, so very different from the soft, companionable conversation usually coming from the two.

The muffled sound of the horses’ hooves on dried needle beds was all that was heard as they made their way home.

Haerelion and Legolas had been gone for almost six months, most of them spent in the company of Gimli in the Glittering Caves, with its many passages, stairs, hallways, and chambers; its sandy floors and high, domed ceilings that seemed to vault the very heavens, and walls of polished stone set with gems and crystals and veins of ore. Such a sight to behold that even Legolas had been speechless when he’d first visited them with Gimli years ago. But now, after years under Gimli’s leadership, they had certainly earned their title as being one of the Great Wonders of the Northern World, if not the entire world. And they had enjoyed their stay immensely, as they always did.

It was lucky that the pair were currently alone. This was mostly due in part to the safe place Middle Earth had become under the reign of its wise rulers, as well as the fact that Haerelion was almost of age, having recently reached 50 summers, and was no longer required by their father to have an escort everywhere. But as it was, no one else would have known what to make of their uneasy silence, so it was just as well.

Legolas chanced another surreptitious glance Haerelion’s way. The other was looking straight ahead, ignoring Legolas completely as though he wasn’t even there, as he had been doing for the last couple weeks.

There hadn’t been anything noticeably odd when they’d left Greenwood at the end of spring, several months earlier. This trip was nothing special or out of the ordinary. But if Legolas was being honest with himself, he would admit that he knew the exact moment that had caused this odd shift in their relationship. He could easily attribute their current problem to the end of their fifth month in Aglarond, where they had been sharing a room near Gimli’s personal chambers, as they had done since Legolas’ first visit here with Haerelion when he was fifteen. Yet more had changed since then than Legolas seemed to realise.

...  
One month earlier  
...

Legolas had been excited for this trip and had enjoyed the time catching up with his old friend. It was generally impossible to drag the dwarf away from his work, as he continued to lend the aid of the Dwarves to the Men of Rohan and Gondor, forging gates of mithril and steel to replace those destroyed during the War of the Rings. But for his dearest friends, Gimli always made an exception.

And as usual, Haerelion had been enraptured by everything the Dwarves did, and could spend hours watching them at work in the mines, folding metals, and crafting fine swords and armour to meet the high demands of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth.

While Legolas walked the halls and shared his day with Gimli, Haerelion chose to while away his time deep in the mines. Much to Haerelion’s delight, the Dwarves there welcomed his presence, and readily entertained him by singing and chanting as they merrily melted, pounded, and grinded away with their tools.

Sitting beside Gwalin, Haerelion soaked in the tales that the dwarves would spin of the Dwarves Awakening, Durin the Deathless, and the famed adventures of their leader, Thorin Stonehelm. And whenever it caught the working dwarves’ fancy, they would break out into song, which quickly spread throughout the mines until the throaty words echoed up into the main chamber halls above.

Haerelion smiled and closed his eyes, tapping his feet against the bottom rung of the stool, as Gwalin and Desil began a deep, rumbling melody in rhythm with the clanging of their hammers and picks against stone and mithril.

_Like Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,_   
_While hammers fell like ringing bells_   
_We work all day, and singing pray,_   
_For Durin’s boon beneath the Helm_

_For kings of men and elven-lords_   
_There many a gleaming golden hoard_   
_We shape and graft, and light we catch_   
_To hide in gems on hilt and sword_

_On silver_ necklaces _jewels are strung_  
 _The flowering stars, on_ crowns _are hung_  
 _Goblets are wrought, and harps of gold sought_  
 _In mighty halls where ballads are sung_

And thus the mighty halls of Dwarves residing in the Glittering Caves of the White Mountains made the Lonely Mountains look like a time of poverty, for Lord Gimli had created bountiful prosperity in the wake of the first everlasting time of peace on Middle Earth. And though Haerelion had been born after Sauron’s defeat, it was clear that he was no less appreciative of all the Dwarves had done. He had heard stories enough from Legolas and company, and could see daily, first hand, the prejudice that still reigned in Greenwood against the Dwarves. It was also clear where the young lad’s loyalties lay.

Legolas would never say a word to his father, but was sure that his adar’s plan of raising a second son to take over the Greenwood throne and continue his reign had failed, whether Legolas chose to stay in Middle Earth or not. But that, again, was the crux of their current issue.

....

It was early in the morning, before sunrise if they had been able to see outside, and Legolas was in the throes of a nightmare of his own making, one that had become uncomfortably familiar over the years. Usually Haerelion’s presence when he stayed with Legolas in his talan was enough to keep them at bay, but staying in the belly of a mountain for so long, with only gems and a few windows for bright light was starting to make him feel more than a bit claustrophobic.

Though he cared for Gimli dearly and enjoyed their visits very much, five months in a cave was a very long time with no trees and sunlight for an elf. Legolas knew Haerelion felt it too, but for Legolas it was also a matter of feeling so cut off from the water, despite how close the Anduin was to here.

He didn’t know how much longer he could stay in these caves, in Middle Earth even. If he was honest with himself, it was all proving to be too much for Legolas. And the call was getting stronger, especially at times like this, with Legolas becoming even more helpless to resist.

In his dreamscape, Legolas walked along pristine white sand beds with the waves lapping up onto the shore only a couple feet away. All around him, seagulls cried, circled overhead, and scampered around the sand, seemingly without care to Legolas’ presence. It was beautiful, to be sure, but the colours were all wrong. Too bright, too surreal.

The sky was a bright turquoise blue, unlike any colour Legolas had ever seen before in the natural world. And the waters were an odd green and deep blue, with a splash of red tainting the waters in places Legolas was afraid to go near.

The cry of the gulls got louder and louder, screeching all around, until suddenly they all took flight, swooped around in a circle, and then made straight for him.

Legolas was frozen into place, knowing he could not outrun them – he was surrounded – and that there was no cover to be offered with miles and miles of sand and water surrounding him all around.

“Legolas! Legolas!”

Jerking his head around in surprise, Legolas threw his arms up and squinted through the flocks of birds, sure that he had heard Haerelion’s voice. Haerelion had come to drive the birds back!

“Legolas! Legolas, come back. Come back! You’re dreaming. You’re just dreaming.”

Legolas blinked several times and suddenly he was back in the room he and Haerelion shared in Aglarond.

“Legolas?”

Haerelion’s face peered worriedly down at him, pale and frowning deeply as he continued to shake Legolas’ shoulders to ensure he was indeed awake.

Legolas took a deep, calming breath, and then slowly lowered his arms and lay his hands gently on Haerelion’s shaking ones, pushing him back far enough so that he could sit up. Only once he was sitting upright and his eyes had cleared of the vivid beach scenes and attacking seagulls, did Haerelion breathe a sigh of relief.

Closing his eyes, Legolas willed away the remaining images from his mind and then focused his gaze on their joined fingers resting on the bedspread between them, barely aware of the fact that he had still to release Haerelion’s hand from his grip.

After an indeterminate moment of silence where both elves slowly calmed their racing breath, Haerelion broke the stillness to ask, “What visions troubled your mind so?”

Haerelion shifted on the bed next to Legolas and pulled one hand away to lay it on Legolas’ knee. “It was like you were possessed. I feared I would not be able to wake you from your nightmare.”

Legolas took another deep breath, but hesitated to respond, unsure if he should burden Haerelion with such thoughts. The painful reality was that Legolas’ time on Middle Earth was dwindling even as they sat. And he wasn't sure what to do about it.

But Haerelion persisted. “It’s me, Legolas. Please tell me,” he said gently. “I cannot help you if you insist on keeping me in the dark. It physically hurts me to see you in pain and not able to do anything about it.” His hand squeezed Legolas’ knee, though it was likely that he was as unaware of his actions as Legolas was that he was squeezing Haerelion’s other hand as well.

But it wasn’t as simple as Haerelion was trying to make it. Legolas felt guilty for so many reasons. Yet Haerelion was right, it was him. Though Legolas wasn’t exactly sure what it all meant exactly. He was his best friend, his closest confidante; a child he had helped raise into a young man. But did that mean that Haerelion no longer needed him? Legolas didn’t like to think so. He didn't like to think Haerelion would ever not be in his life, yet that was part of the very problem that was haunting him.

He pushed those thoughts away for later contemplation; Haerelion was starting to lean forward again, looking at him worriedly, waiting for an answer.

“I still hear the call of the white gulls in my dreams,” he admitted, looking ashamedly away at the wall. “They speak to me of the Sea! A Sea I have yet to behold.”

Several heartbeats passed in an eternity of time, where Legolas suddenly became very much aware of the tense hand in his hold, but he still refused to look away from the wall. Cowardly would never have been a word used to describe Legolas, but in that moment he possessed not one ounce of courage to move his gaze from the wall to meet Haerelion’s.

“Oh,” Haerelion finally said in a voice that sounded so empty, so defeated. And it made Legolas feel even guiltier. Haerelion was not a naïve, little boy anymore, he knew what that meant, he now understood the sea-longing of his friend. And he was no happier about it than their father, though thankfully much more understanding.

It made it a no less touchy, taboo conversation, though, and Legolas fervently wished he could take the words back and remove the troubled, sorrowed mien from Haerelion’s countenance.

Legolas found the strength to look when he felt both of Haerelion’s hands being pulled forcibly from his own.

Haerelion leant back and all expression was suddenly wiped from his face. “I see.” He hesitated for a second, his eyes scanning the room around them blindly. “Perhaps a trip to the Bay of Belfâlâs before heading ho- back to Greenwood. Would that soothe your soul a bit for now?”

Legolas nodded dumbly, conflicting emotions warring inside of him. His heart cried at the thought of finally seeing the sea. The Sea! But he wasn't sure if doing so would help or make the longing worse. He wanted to stay with Haerelion and be with him as he finished growing, but if he saw the sea finally...

He knew he was hurting Haerelion with the admission that his longing to leave for the West was getting stronger, but the very idea that he would finally be able to see the sea was overwhelming.

Legolas could do little else at the moment but nod.

The next day they were saying their regretful goodbyes to Gimli, who seemed to sense that something was wrong and let them go without protest. They made their way back on the road, but this time they were heading southwest to Anfalas, skirting Minas Tirith for now to get to the sea.

Legolas looked over at his sole riding companion and frowned to feel the cold distance that had formed between them, though they were riding in close proximity due to the narrowed path they were on.

He had a feeling that he had caused Haerelion more hurt by explaining the problem than he would have if he’d kept his silence. He felt like apologising for awakening the sea-longing in his blood, for burdening Haerelion with his personal demons, and forcing him into a corner until he felt that the only way to help Legolas was to take him away from Greenwood and their friends to see the sea.

But again, Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, was too cowardly to open his mouth and breach the gap that had opened between them. He wouldn’t fool himself by saying it was better this way – he could only imagine that Haerelion was hurting just as much as he himself was – but he also realised that he didn’t know what else to do to make this better.

They reached the borders of Anfalas after climbing through the peaks of Pinnach Gelm, and rode for a day through its bare, open lands, lands that still reeked of Saruman’s betrayal, before catching sight of the coastline. It was absolutely breath-taking to Legolas. He felt like a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders the moment it had come into view and he’d caught a whiff of the salty air that assaulted him with a cheerful gusto.

Legolas turned to see Haerelion’s reaction. Maybe they could at least talk about this. Legolas found it hard to feel any emotion other than relieved and elated so close to the coast.

But one look at Haerelion’s face and all Legolas’ hopes were dashed in a quick, effortless death. Haerelion was glaring daggers at the white-capped waves splashing onto shore, as though daring them to come any closer. He was looking at the sea as though it had committed some horrendous, unforgivable act for which it could never be pardoned. So different from Legolas’ feelings that he suddenly felt even more distanced from the other elf. How could Haerelion possibly hate something that was so dear to Legolas?

They made camp just outside its rocky shores that night, working in tandem from years and years of practise, but their silence was far from companionable.

....

Legolas spent the following days walking the shore, gazing out across the sea into the west, and contemplating all that he would be leaving behind by sailing to the Valinor, specifically who. But mostly, he spent his days listening to the cries of the white gulls and the cheerful slap of the waves on the rocks.

One cold morning, sitting at the edge of the shore, feet welcoming the incoming tide with its every sweep onto the sands, Legolas began to softly sing a sweet song to the sea.

 _Silver flow the streams from Celos to Erui_  
 _In the green fields of Lebennin!_  
 _Tall grows the grass there. In the wind from the Sea_  
 _The white lilies sway,_  
 _And the golden bells are shaken of_ mallos _and_ alfirin  
 _In the green fields of Lebennin,_  
 _In the wind from the Sea!_

Looking down, fascinated by the white foam that caressed his toes, feet, and ankles every few seconds, Legolas finished his song and missed the looks Haerelion was sending him from behind, under the cover of the trees. By the time Legolas got up, his leggings soaked up to his calves, Haerelion had slipped away.

It was almost a week later when Legolas began to wrestle with the idea of going back home to Greenwood. Being here was too much of a temptation, and he’d already promised himself, his father, and Haerelion that he would stay here until Haerelion had reached a hundred summers. He was only halfway there and Legolas knew he could not leave him now.

He wondered if he ever could, and how he would. Yet so close to the sea, he also wondered how he could stay away a moment longer. He wanted to build a ship, carve the wood from the trees off shore with his own two hands, and sail away into that horizon, with nary a care in the world. More than ever he felt like he was being torn in two and there was no third option in sight.

That night, sitting across from one another with the fire crackling and barking loudly between them, Legolas was slowly building up his courage to say the first words spoken in almost a month. But it was Haerelion who once again proved just who was the braver elf between the two of them.

“You should stay here.” Haerelion was staring into the fire with a fierce look of concentration on his face. Slowly, he looked up and met Legolas’ eyes as he spoke his next words. “You told me years ago of your plans to build an elven community within Ithilien. I could go back to Adar and send some elves who would be interested in living here as well.

“You would be keeping your promise of staying in Middle Earth, but...” he trailed off, his eyes already lowered back to the flames. “You're much happier here. Even as you sit in conflict along the rocks on the shore, there is a weight off your shoulders, and I have never seen you look more at peace.” Haerelion swallowed and looked directly into Legolas’ gaze with his next words. “You should heed the cry of the gulls.”

Haerelion looked away and fell into silence. Legolas thought he’d said more than enough already anyway. His message was clear.

Legolas wouldn’t lie, though. He did feel much better here than he had since he’d returned under the beech and elm of Greenwood. Haerelion had got it spot on, it was like part of the burden that had weighed down his soul since first hearing the cry of the gulls in Pelargir had been lifted.

It was something Haerelion, as a Silvan Elf – or so they assumed – couldn’t understand. He didn't have the sea-longing in his heart, didn’t feel what Legolas felt when he gazed out into the West. And yet, it was Haerelion that held Legolas’ tongue, keeping him from agreeing. It was Haerelion who was causing him to pause and think about returning to Greenwood, even though his heart felt at such peace right where it was.

And it was Haerelion that had him shaking his head and refusing his friend’s offer to let him stay here until his promise was fulfilled. It was Haerelion pulling him the other way, away from the pull of the sea, and Legolas was letting himself be dragged along.

Legolas swallowed heavily and lifted his head high to gaze across the fire at Haerelion, though the other still wouldn't look up, and said, “I would rather go home to Greenwood with you.”

All oxygen seemed to have been sucked up by the fire for both Legolas and Haerelion stopped breathing in that second.

When Haerelion finally looked up, Legolas could see his nostrils flaring, a sure sign he was fighting back tears. The air around him seemed to crackle with the invisible magic that surrounded him whenever Haerelion’s emotions got the better of him.

Acting on instinct, Legolas got up and quickly made his way over to Haerelion’s side. Wrapping his arm around his friend, Legolas pulled him to his side until he was leaning his entire weight against Legolas. Seconds later, Haerelion lifted his own arms to wrap around Legolas’ torso and squeezed, while burying his face into Legolas’ chest.

The rest of the night passed in silence with neither elf letting go, not letting up in the slightest. They didn't sleep or even close their eyes. The fire died by the early morning light. By the time the sun had risen in the sky, a brilliant mix of orange, purple, and red, Haerelion was just beginning to stir and move back.

Breaking away to look up into Legolas’ eyes, Haerelion spoke the first words in hours. “Are you sure?”

Legolas wasn’t sure what took over him then, maybe the vulnerable, worried look in Haerelion’s eyes, maybe the tearstains on his face, maybe the soft, desperate whisper of his voice that let Legolas know he was scared to even be asking, but was anyway for Legolas’ sake. But Legolas didn’t think about why he was doing it. Instead, he just leant in and kissed him.

And Haerelion kissed back.

.....

End of Part 1 of 2

.....


	2. Chapter 2

...

The Pull of Heart and Tide  
~...~

...  
30 years later  
...

They hadn’t talked about that morning by the shore since it happened 30 years ago. As soon as the kiss had ended, Haerelion had gotten up and began to pack their gear and prepare the horses. They’d left for Greenwood within the hour.

Since then, Haerelion had reached his 80th summer, and Legolas and he hadn’t left Greenwood for even the shortest of trips.

The kiss was forgotten for all intents and purposes, or just largely ignored. Haerelion had not said anything about it as they mounted and led their horses out over the fields of Anfalas, so Legolas had taken his lead and kept quiet as well. When Haerelion had finally taken up conversation again as though nothing had transpired between them in the last month at all, Legolas was too relieved to argue and decided he would be a fool to say otherwise and wisely played along.

Years later, though, part of Legolas sometimes wondered whether it had even happened at all. Such thoughts crowded his head since, especially when Haerelion was not around. Though that was pretty rare, for it seemed that since they’d returned to Greenwood 30 years ago, Haerelion had not let Legolas out of his sight. He found a reason to stay with Legolas in his talan nearly every night, and was scarcely found in the Halls anymore.

Legolas wondered whether his adar knew what was happening – though Legolas wasn't sure he himself understood it– and if the king was not encouraging Haerelion to do everything he could to ensure that Legolas did not leave Greenwood again. But as Haerelion never said anything, Legolas couldn’t be sure.

It was relaxing, comfortable, and enjoyable to be in Haerelion’s constant company, but it also tended to be awkward, confusing, and flustering, feelings Legolas would have previously thought impossible with the younger elf. Since the kiss, Legolas was no longer sure what to expect, though, and was no longer sure what he wanted.

Yes, Haerelion was important to him, he was the most important person in his life. That hadn’t changed. But what did that mean? He loved him, but was he in love with him? And more importantly, would he be able to ignore the call of the Sea for him? In the many hundreds of years that Legolas had been alive, he had never encountered anything like it before and had no precedence for it.

These headache-inducing thoughts plagued Legolas’ mind as he sat on a tree stump with his bow and quiver strapped across his back. Both he and Haerelion had agreed to go on a spider-hunt deep in the mountains with some of the other warriors of Greenwood to cut down on the infestations. Haerelion had returned to Thranduil’s Halls to retrieve his long sword and had promised to meet Legolas on the borders of Emryn Vel. Legolas guessed, if his room was not too much of a mess, Haerelion should be here soon.

But while he waited, worried thoughts plagued his mind. It was like Haerelion was ten years old again and Legolas was left fearing every possible danger that could befall him while he was out of Legolas’ sight. As much as Haerelion did not let Legolas out unaccompanied, Legolas was little better. He had half a mind to go to the Halls himself and see if Haerelion needed any help, even if it meant he would meet him on the path, all the better to soothe his nerves and his restless body.

Just as he was getting up, he sensed company coming his way, and it wasn’t Haerelion.

“Suïlaïd, Legolas,” an elf Legolas recognised as Rimben approached him and sat down on a rock by Legolas’ side, a bow and quiver strapped to his own back as well. “It will be a good hunt,” he declared. “We are lucky to have the masters of the bow and sword with us.” (Greetings)

Legolas nodded politely with a smile. It was true that while he was considered a master archer in all of Middle Earth across all races, Haerelion was the undisputed master of the sword. His sword collection, however, was the only thing he didn’t keep in Legolas’ talan, hanging only three of his favourite blades on Legolas’ walls, the others stayed in the Halls in Haerelion’s old rooms, and Legolas now feared he was trying to take all of them back to fit in their talan considering he was taking much longer than Legolas expected.

“Speaking of whom,” Rimben continued, oblivious to Legolas’ worrying, “When are you going to finally put a betrothal ring on that lad’s finger?”

Legolas stopped breathing and held his entire body frozen. “What?”

“Haerelion is more than old enough, and surely you have the king’s blessing, he raised Haerelion, after all, and you two are already living together.” Though it wasn’t strictly tradition, the eldest elf in the relationship usually asked for the betrothal. “I just wonder how long that lad intends on waiting for you to make it official.” Rimben laughed at some joke he must have thought terribly funny, though Legolas clearly failed to see the humour in it.

The only thing Legolas could think was remotely funny was that his adar would most likely approve such a union if it meant Legolas would stay in Greenwood, and Middle Earth at large. Legolas was pretty sure his adar was prepared to accept anything to ensure his son didn’t sail away from him forever. But as the larger population of Greenwood were unaware of Legolas’ condition – the king wanting it kept that way – Legolas could hardly expect Rimben to understand.

“Unless, of course,” Rimben paused, curiously watching Legolas’ stiff reaction, “you’re not together...”

“He’s taken,” Legolas said forcefully, the words spilling out of his mouth without a second thought.

The amused smile that spread over Rimben’s face was as funny to Legolas as his earlier humour, which was to say not at all. Eventually, the elf seemed to realise that his presence was not welcomed and he took the hint and left with a parting declaration that he would see him later.

Legolas had just let loose an angry huff once he was sure Rimben had well and truly left, when Haerelion slipped up behind him and sat down on the rock Rimben had just vacated. Legolas jerked with a start.

“Haerelion!”

How had he not heard him coming?

Haerelion’s face was oddly neutral, graced with only a small, unassuming smile as he nodded to Legolas and indicated the long sword in its scabbard at his side. “Ready?”

On the tip of his tongue was the question of whether Haerelion had heard what Rimben had said, for it seemed impossibly coincidental that Haerelion would show up mere moments after Rimben had left. But like every time he’d hesitated for the past 30 years, not sure if he wanted to start the conversation the answer would create, Legolas once again held his tongue and nodded.

.....

It soon became obvious that Haerelion had indeed heard.

Just like the trip to Anfalas, Haerelion barely spoke a word to him the entire time. This was, of course, less obvious to those around him as they were accompanying a party of 12 other elves, all of whom were delighted to be under the attention of the young elf. Thankfully, Rimben was among just a few who seemed to be interested in Haerelion in that way; romantically, that is. To many, Haerelion was still a child, the youngest elf in Middle Earth, and they loved giving Haerelion attention just as much as they loved receiving it from him.

That Haerelion’s bedroll ended up a little closer to Legolas’ than usual when they travelled together outside the talan was not picked up by anyone else. Legolas wasn’t about to say anything with so many present, and no one else seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary. Or at least, they didn’t say anything if they did.

The group eventually reached the mountains and split up into units of threes and fours, with Haerelion and Legolas in a group with Laegil, one of the few females of the troop. They had only been walking for a couple hours before they came upon their first giant spider web that was luckily empty. It was always better to meet these things away from their home base. It was several more minutes before they met their first acromantula.

Laegil whistled sharply and hissed, “To your left.”

But Haerelion already had his sword out, ready to start cutting at the beast’s leg, while Legolas was letting an arrow fly straight into one of its many eyes. Stumbling and spitting madly, the giant spider lunged at Legolas, but not before Haerelion darted forward and slashed through three of the spider’s legs with skilled efficiency.

Downed and nearly blinded, Legolas crept up behind it and dealt the last blow in the form of an arrow to its underside, just beneath its neck.

Legolas swung his bow behind his back while Haerelion cleaned off his sword before sliding it back in his scabbard. Laegil, meanwhile, was still standing with her hand on her long knife, frozen mid-pose, mouth half open in amazement. It had taken less than thirty seconds for Haerelion and Legolas to put that thing down and they were already prepared for the next one.

“Well,” Laegil began, once she’d gotten her voice back. “I don’t see why you even need a third person in this group, but if you would be so kind as to leave something for us lesser immortals to do next time, I would greatly appreciate it.” Bowing her head in mock appeal, she led the group away deeper into the mountains to meet their next adversary.

Haerelion and Legolas looked briefly at one another, their minds solely on the battle that had just taken place, and shrugged, not understanding what was wrong with Laegil.

“Does she want to start it next time?” Haerelion asked as he walked beside Legolas, a few paces from their female group member. “It just makes more sense to start from afar and blind it first to exploit the weakness in its eyes, and that’s done best with a bow and arrow. Her long knife wouldn’t be nearly as effective and would be far more dangerous,” Haerelion reasoned.

Legolas nodded. He supposed she could help Haerelion in cutting it down, exposing its underside, or let her deal the killing blow, but again, that was best done with a bit of distance, in case the spider tried for a last attack to take one of its killers down with it. If he perceived the situation as too dangerous, Haerelion would use his magic to aid Legolas, but only sparingly. He had not forgotten Legolas’ words about Mithrandir years ago, and generally kept his gift between himself and Legolas. It was safer that way.

Cutting it down at the legs it was then. He left Haerelion to be the one to pass on the message to Laegil before they encountered the next one.

The following 26 overgrown arachnids they encountered that day, including the three large nests they’d found before meeting up with another group to make camp for the night, were dealt with swiftly and smoothly as well. Laegil had once again been given little opportunity to join in, though by no conscious intention of either Haerelion or Legolas. By the end of the day, though, she wasn’t even bothering to try.

“I’m joining your group,” Laegil declared to the other elves that night.

The team looked oddly at her in bemusement. “We are already three. Do you propose a trade?” asked Arveldir, looking pointedly between Legolas and Haerelion, probably wondering what they had done to drive their teammate away.

Laegil shook her head. “No.” She crossed her arms, showing only the slight disgruntlement that she was really feeling. “They don’t need another person on their team. They do just fine on their own. I’ve not even gotten a chance to free my blade from its sheath yet. These two work too fast to be reckoned with, and I want the chance to shed some acromantula blood!” She whipped out her long knife in front of her for emphasis, the swift ringing of the metal echoing in the ears of all present.

Legolas bowed his head in guilt. He had noticed that she had been getting more and more restless as the day went on, but it was hardly his and Haerelion’s fault that she was continually too slow to help out. He and Haerelion had been working like a team at this since Haerelion had been big enough to hold a sword. Perhaps this hunt had been a bad idea after all.

“No matter,” Úlloth cut in quickly, looking at the other members of her group with a small smile, finally reserving a special one for Legolas and Haerelion. “We can take Laegil, as long as you promise to return to the city by the end of the week with no injuries and plenty of spider carcasses left in your wake,” she commanded, only half-joking. After all, it would not do for both the king’s sons to come back injured, or worse yet, not at all. But it was clear that no one in the group expected that to be an issue and let the matter drop.

In the morning, Haerelion and Legolas split ways with the others and climbed higher up the mountain. Once again, the awkward silence had fallen between them and Legolas was starting to get anxious and impatient. Haerelion, for his part, seemed as distant and reserved as he had during their time at Anfalas. But this time he also seemed more nervous and unsure of himself, if his occasional glances at Legolas, scrutinising his face as if searching for something, were any indication. However, he had given no suggestion that he was adverse to Laegil leaving last night, which left Legolas perturbed and confused. Was he bothered to be alone with Legolas or not?

Yes, things had become a bit more awkward between them the last few decades, but they should still be able to tell each other anything. Well, anything that was not related to Anfalas. And this wasn’t...was it?

Legolas pushed the thought to the back of his mind for now, seeing as neither he nor Haerelion were willing to deal with it at the moment, and instead concentrated on the task at hand.

They killed off another 38 spiders that day with the same adept effectiveness, without a word passing between them. They had one another’s backs and that seemed to work fine for the most part. But by nightfall, inside a small cave, sans fire – seeing as they were in the heart of the mountain where the spiders were most prevalent – Legolas decided that enough was enough.

They had just laid out their bedrolls and were sitting by the light of a small crystal given to Legolas by Lady Galadriel before her departure from the Grey Havens, when Legolas broke the silence.

“We need to talk.”

Haerelion was turned away from him, having just removed his shirt to get ready for bed, but Legolas could see the muscles in his bare back tense in reply.

In a sombre, apprehensive voice, Haerelion replied, “What do you want to talk about?”

Legolas waited until Haerelion had gotten the hint to turn around and face him, before going over to sit directly in front of the other elf, their knees just touching. Haerelion stiffened slightly, and then visibly forced himself to relax.

“What?” Haerelion asked, almost belligerently.

But Legolas was having none of it. Taking Haerelion’s face in his hands, Legolas held him there steadily and said, “This,” before kissing him for the second time in their lives.

This time Haerelion did not kiss back at first. He clamped his lips shut tightly and refused to move. But Legolas was adamant, not moving away until Haerelion gave in and returned the ardent affection.

Haerelion didn’t last long, soon relaxing his lips to Legolas’ and moving against them just as enthusiastically. Haerelion raised his hands to grip Legolas’ wrists, which were slowly making their way up Haerelion’s cheeks and down through his hair.

The temperature of the cave rose quickly and engulfed the two as they let loose 30 years worth and more of pent up passion and desire.

Eventually, after several minutes had passed and both elves were looking thoroughly mussed, Legolas broke away for air.

Haerelion immediately seemed to come to himself and opened his mouth to protest, “But you’re –”

“No,” Legolas shook his head, his voice breathy yet firm, “not now. Just...” and he leant in to kiss him again. This time Haerelion gave no initial protest and moved his lips against Legolas’ just as fiercely, fingering through Legolas’ hair, down his back, and mapping strange shapes around his waist.

The next time they broke, Legolas reached back up to trap Haerelion’s face between his hands again. “Don’t run away from me this time,” he said, breathing slightly more heavily than usual. “Tell me what this means.”

Haerelion frowned then. Taking Legolas’ hands from his face and placing them in his lap, he looked down at their enjoined hands for several minutes before lifting his eyes to Legolas’.

“I love you,” Haerelion whispered fervently, but his eyes said everything else. This was not solely the love of a best friend, or the familial connection between them, this was Haerelion declaring who his heart had chosen as his bonded spouse, and that there would be no other besides Legolas in his life.

Haerelion raised one hand to cup the side of Legolas’ face and made sure Legolas did not look away, not that he had any intention of doing so. He revelled in the magical heat that unintentionally sparked through their contact and only just kept himself from closing his eyes and ignoring all other sensations but the one Haerelion provided.

“Can’t you see?” Haerelion asked, rubbing small circles across Legolas’ cheek. “You belong with me. Me. Not the Sea,” he whispered fervently, “Not the West, or the Valinor. You’re mine. I just can't imagine it any other way.” He licked his lips and his nostrils were flaring again as he took a deep breath that Legolas knew was not needed strictly from the kissing.

Haerelion did not wait for an answer, though, and his next words explained why. “But I know that your heart is already taken by the Sea.” He swallowed and took another deep, steadying breath, seemingly steeling himself for something, before forging on, “But I am here to make my intentions known, that I would do everything in my power to take it back. To fight for your heart, against the pull of the Valinor themselves in order to keep you here with me.

“You belong with me,” he repeated in earnest. “I know it. You are meant to be with me, not taken by the Sea,” he said, shaking his head slowly, an errant tear running down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away with an embarrassed, angry glare directed downwards.

Legolas wasn’t able to respond at first, other than to not protest when Haerelion brought their lips together again.

Legolas was absolutely certain he loved Haerelion in that way as well. And though Haerelion was right – his heart had been taken by the Sea – he also knew that the Sea did not own his entire heart and soul. Haerelion had always had at least half of Legolas since the first time the blonde had held him safely against his chest as a baby.

All he knew was that they were going to make this work. Legolas would accept nothing else.

“You’re right,” Legolas said finally in the quiet cave, vaguely wondering how Haerelion had ended up half in his lap already. They could not get any closer, yet Haerelion was all for the impossible and was not letting go any time soon, wrapping Legolas tightly in his arms as if in protest to his next words. “My heart has been calling out to the Sea since I first heard the white gulls’ cry in Pelargir. And my heart has not found peace under the trees of Greenwood since. But neither do I want to leave Middle Earth yet.”

Haerelion looked apprehensively at Legolas, not yet sure how to react or what that meant.

“I wish to start a community in Ithilien, as I’d planned on doing years ago, where the Anduin is near, and their waters lead to the Sea!” He leant forward and laid a quick kiss on Haerelion’s mouth in his excitement.

Haerelion’s whole face dropped at that exclamation, as soon as the kiss was over. Haerelion looked down and away, though he continued to clutch at Legolas’ arms in his hold.

“If that is what you truly want, then,” he swallowed, “then I will help you,” he said, though Legolas could hear his voice breaking slightly. “You should do what you love and be near that which makes you happy.” He took another deep breath and forged on. “I shall help you talk with Adar, if you like, to make known to the Elves of Greenwood the offer of moving south. You will thrive there, I know. It will become the fairest country in all of Middle Earth, and elves from all over will flock to be a part of it.” Haerelion shook his head again as his voice seemed to have abandoned him and he could no longer continue past the lump obstructing the words in his throat.

Legolas’ heart dropped to his stomach as he watched Haerelion choke for words and show his support for Legolas. Enfolding the dark-haired elf’s entire body in his arms, Legolas put his mouth next to Haerelion’s ear and whispered, “I wish for you to come with me. I couldn't leave Greenwood unless you were at my side.”

“Legolas,” Haerelion breathed, shaking his head rapidly from side to side, “I couldn’t. I just – I’ll go to Lothlórien instead. When you leave... I wouldn’t be able to –”

“You would come with me.”

Silence met his statement for a stretch of time, which Legolas marked by the passing of Haerelion’s heart beating slowly in his chest.

“I want you to come with me,” Legolas repeated, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Haerelion’s ear for good measure.

“But,” Haerelion drew back and shook his head, “But I’m a Silvan Elf. Middle Earth is my home. I couldn’t – I can’t – it’s –”

Legolas rushed forward to kiss him once again, putting an effective end to all arguments for the moment.

“We don't know that for sure. You could be Teleri for all that we know. You have Istari blood in you, that is all we know for certain.

“But either way it doesn’t matter, I wouldn't care where you come from because all I know is that you’re right. You belong with me. And as long as I have you by my side, the Sea won't drown me in its powerful currents or take me away to be lost among the waves.

“I will stay on Middle Earth for as long as you desire, but I hope,” Legolas’ feverish stare betrayed the desperate ache in his heart as he laid his soul bare for Haerelion to make the final decision, “I hope that you will eventually be ready to join me and sail west to the Valinor.”

Haerelion took a shuddering breath before answering, “I would bind myself to you, if you would have me.”

Legolas’ whole face broke out in a smile, his eyes glimmering with joy as he whispered, “Illumë,” and then went in for yet another pleasurable meeting of lips. He didn't think he would ever be able to get enough of this, and as long as Haerelion was agreeing, Legolas didn't plan to stop. (Always)

......

Much later, the light of the morning sun streaming through the cave found Legolas and Haerelion laying entangled on one cot. Arms and legs threaded together, Legolas’ chest pressing against Haerelion’s back, and both heads resting against the same pillow.

“There is a saying, you know,” Legolas whispered, a contented smile on his lips as he brushed them against the back of Haerelion’s neck, “That the Sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever, but more importantly, a star, once it falls to earth, leaves its imprint of passion eternally fixed in your eyes.”

Haerelion turned his head to look at Legolas’ face.

“You are that distant star that’s fallen upon my path, and whether the Sea has me under its spell or not, I will never be able to look away from you. And I have no desire to either.”

Haerelion smiled and turned his entire body around to burrow deeper into the warmth that was Legolas.

The Sea no longer mattered because Legolas was his, no matter where the winds took them or what lay in Valinor, the Blessed Lands. Legolas was his.

“That is good to hear,” Haerelion responded, moving his lips smoothly against Legolas’ collarbone, “because I expect an announcement of our betrothal when we return. I cannot tell you how difficult it is to be living with you and able to do little else than watch you bathe.”

Legolas’ eyes widened in shock and he pulled back to look at Haerelion’s innocently perplexed-looking expression. “You watch me bathe?”

Haerelion rolled his eyes. “Of course. There is no other time to see you, and now I must wait a year yet before I can bed you properly.”

Closing his mouth once more, a light of amusement sprang into his eyes as Legolas growled playfully, declaring Haerelion a little demon. He pounced on his intended, though finding it a bit hard to do when they were already so entwined with one another, so he settled for rolling around the cave in a spirited wrestle until Haerelion gave surrender in a breathy laugh.

When they finally left the cave hours later, it was almost midday, and both had decided that telling their father about their betrothal was more important than finishing off a few overgrown arachnids. The spiders would still be there later, but right now they needed to concoct a good plan to get their father’s approval of the betrothal, seeing as Haerelion was not yet of age and they technically needed his permission.

Having the same father and no mother, while both being considered princes of Greenwood, yet without being brothers, categorised their marriage as unorthodox in the first place, but that wasn’t necessarily what was troubling them. Legolas was sure they would have the king’s wholehearted approval, but under the pretence that by marrying Haerelion, Legolas had chosen to stay in Middle Earth. Otherwise, who knew what the king’s reaction would be?

One thing at least was certain, it shouldn’t exactly be a surprise for Thranduil that they were officially together and asking for a betrothal. The anxiety of the couple came more from the guilt of not revealing their true intentions to their father until after they had garnered his approval for the betrothal.

Thranduil had only gotten more and more fanatical over the years, obsessed with keeping Legolas in Greenwood at all costs. It had not been hard a decision to keep their trip to Anfalas a secret, and they’d never had any intention of telling anyone. But now they needed not only their father’s approval of the betrothal, but also the elven-lord’s sanction to start a colony in Ithilien with other elves that were interested.

This would have to be dealt with the utmost discretion and poise.

Legolas figured he would be the one doing most of the talking.

.....

“Le suilon, Adar,” Legolas said as he entered his father’s halls. (I greet thee, Father)

“Legolas! Haerelion! Im gelir ceni ad lín. Back so early from the hunt?” King Thranduil stood from his throne to greet his two sons, embracing both warmly. (I am happy to see you again.)

“Come, come, sit down and tell me what news you have. I have not had both my sons together with me in some time. You have stolen Haerelion completely from under my grasp, Legolas. I should have known the moment you first set eyes on him,” their father said affectionately, negating any sting of accusation in the words.

Legolas jumped on the subject, though, with both feet. “Actually, it is funny you should mention that father, because I come to you with a request today regarding Haerelion.”

“You’re not planning on taking him to see that little dwarf in his caves again, are you?” Thranduil narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I don’t think it’s good for the boy to be surrounded by so many dwarves at such a young age. Impressionable,” he muttered darkly to himself. He fixed his gaze piercingly on Legolas, daring him to ask for such permission again.

Legolas had to grind his teeth against fighting another pointless battle for the sake of his dear friend. This was not about Gimli or the Dwarves today. “No, I have come to ask for your consent on my betrothal to Haerelion and permission to use the royal rings for the ceremony.”

The king’s face grew slack in shock, and he stumbled back a step, looking blankly between Legolas and Haerelion, and back again. The couple stood stock still as the seconds ticked by and the king pinned them both with a penetrating stare.

And then suddenly he exclaimed, “That’s wonderful!” Thranduil sprang up to engulf both sons in yet another hug that was, if possible, fiercer than the last. “I have been waiting for this day since I took Haerelion in as my own,” he declared stepping away until he was an arm’s length away from them both, a hand still on each of their shoulders, and looked back and forth between the two with a father’s pride. “I cannot begin to express how happy you have just made me. Of course I give my consent!”

Haerelion and Legolas shared a guilty look. Neither of them had expected him to be so excited over this new development, which would only make their leaving in a year, after the marriage ceremony and feast were complete, all that much more difficult. For right then, with a single glance it had been decided. They would wait till after the wedding to request a faction to accompany them to Ithilien. To do so beforehand would be suicidal.

With a slightly heavy heart, Legolas followed his father out of the hall to look for the royal betrothal rings for Haerelion and him.

...  
One Year Later  
...

Legolas walked in to see Haerelion gazing down at the elven betrothal ring on his left hand with a look of unmitigated pride and happiness. Hoping that look was a result of what it symbolised with Legolas, and not the ring itself, Legolas sidled up behind him and slipped something around his neck.

“I’m home,” he said as he met Haerelion for a proper kiss ‘hello’.

“Welcome back,” Haerelion said with a smile before looking down to see what Legolas had bestowed upon him.

It was the silver scallop shell necklace with the carved wooden starfish Haerelion had given Legolas years ago.

“I saw it outside and knew you were home,” Legolas said with a smile, “but father’s guards were strolling by down below and I thought it would be best to remove it from sight.”

“Good thinking,” Haerelion nodded and then went back to staring at his ring.

“A petal for your musings?”

Haerelion smiled but didn’t answer at first, choosing to remain silent for a bit. Legolas came over and sat down on his lap, finding the chair unsuitable next to the tempting picture his betrothed presented.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” Haerelion finally said, encircling Legolas’ waist with his arms to ensure he didn't move. “I can't believe we’re going to be leaving Greenwood.”

“You want to leave, right?” Legolas wrapped his arms around Haerelion’s shoulders and rested their foreheads against one another. “I’m not forcing you here, am I?” he asked worriedly.

Yes they had been planning for every possible situation this entire year the betrothal had lasted, especially deciding how to deal with Thranduil and what they would do if he denied their request. Where they would go, and who they would stay with while the king’s ire died down. But Legolas still felt the occasional shiver of guilt wrack him when he thought of all he was taking from Haerelion, all the decisions had been made for him really, without Haerelion having any choice in the matter.

“Legolas,” Haerelion breathed softly, effectively garnering his full attention. “I will follow you to the ends of Middle Earth and beyond if it means I still get to wake up in your arms every morning and go to sleep in them every night. Never doubt that.”

Legolas was sure his responding smile was bright enough to outshine the sun at the moment. Part of him knew he must look a fool, but every time he heard Haerelion confirm his feelings, he felt like he could sail over the moon itself.

“Now, my dear elf,” Haerelion intoned, jolting Legolas in his lap as he lifted his knees, “we have wedding vows to exchange before I can finally claim you as mine. Come,” he instructed, looping an arm under Legolas’ legs and behind his back so that when he stood up and started walking to the bedroom he took his betrothed with him. “We must dress.”

.....

The sweet scent of jasmine and moss after a freshly fallen rain hung heavy in the summer air. The heat of the day was just beginning to let up and the sun was just starting its descent in the sky when the moment finally arrived.

Under the great beech and elm, Haerelion and Legolas came together to be united as one in the eyes of all elves. They were dressed and fixed up in a manner befitting the titles they held as Princes of Greenwood, but that mattered little to them as all that counted in their eyes was each other’s presence in that moment.

Legolas held his intended’s hand as he prepared himself to speak the words that would forever intertwine their very souls. Hearing their guests settle around them, waiting in anticipation, and feeling the forest itself quiet as the trees released a wistful sigh at the sight of two of their children bonding, Legolas began.

“I, Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Greenwood pledge my heart and soul to Haerelion Elingollor, Prince of Greenwood, under the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar, Creator and Father of All.”

Haerelion smiled softly in reply, in acceptance, and Legolas knew that no words could describe the amazingly blissful feeling of happiness and relief that spread through him in that moment. But it was nothing compared to what Haerelion’s next words did to him.

Squeezing Legolas’ fingers in anticipation of completing his part of the ceremony, Haerelion was quick to respond with, “I, Haerelion Elingollor, Prince of Greenwood pledge all that I am, my heart, my soul, and all the seconds of my immortal life to Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Greenwood, one of the Nine Walkers, and dear friend to the great leaders of Middle Earth, under the eyes of Eru Ilúvatar, Creator and The All High One.”

Haerelion smiled, letting Legolas know that he had meant every word he’d said and had wanted Legolas and all those present to know. Their guests mainly consisted of their father, a couple guards, several honoured guests of their father’s acquaintance, and of course King Elessar, Lady Arwen, the hobbits Merry, Pippin, and Sam, and even Lord Gimli. Gimli had affirmed that he would do anything for his two dear friends, the only two elves he held in higher esteem than Lady Galadriel herself, and would not have missed their bonding ceremony for all of the precious gems in the world. Needless to say, Legolas and Haerelion were deeply moved by his words.

But besides their closest friends, it mattered not to them who attended. They would have just as easily had a small, private ceremony, but as Princes of Greenwood, something slightly bigger and more notable was required. Their father had finally – thankfully – settled on just a hundred guests after much negotiation, mainly on Legolas’ part.

To be honest though, they were just glad the rest of the elven lords had already sailed into the West, or who could tell what their father would have gotten away with - inviting all of Rivendell and Lothlórien too?

Their thoughts were far from such trivial things as the guest list, however, as after exchanging the vows, the rings were brought forth. Simple betrothal rings of white gold with a single diamond in the centre were returned and exchanged for elaborate platinum rings made of thick, knotted designs with small blue topaz and peridot gems embedded all the way around the band. Legolas took great care sliding the ring onto his husband’s index finger, smiling at the perfect fit. Haerelion soon followed, slipping an identical ring onto Legolas’ finger reverently. Now they would never come off.

The union was sealed with a kiss, which lasted as long as propriety would allow, before they turned to greet their guests as husband and husband.

Leading the group from the cliffside by King Thranduil’s Halls, the ceremony was followed by a feast on the grounds below Legolas and Haerelion’s talan, all organised by their father, who had revelled in all the planning details, however simple and small. Both Haerelion and Legolas were relieved to have been able to curtail their father’s more lofty ideas and keep it as simple as it was.

The celebration lasted well into the night, with many speeches being given by an elated father, who was hardly put out by representing both grooms, but seemed all the more excited for it. Food and wine flowed bountifully and all who passed by were welcomed in to take part in the festivities – and when had an elf ever turned away an opportunity of merriment?

At long last though, Legolas and Haerelion were given leave to retire and finish the marriage ceremony by consummating the union in the privacy of their own home.

Haerelion led Legolas by the hand up the tree with ease, and they didn’t look back as they slipped inside.

......

Haerelion did not let go of Legolas’ hand all the way to the bedroom, where Haerelion turned back into Legolas’ arms and mirrored their pose from earlier, with Legolas wrapping his hands around Haerelion’s waist and Haerelion wrapping his arms around Legolas’ shoulders.

No words were spoken as they let the heady silence of the night settle in around them and they slowly breathed each other in.

Haerelion started by reaching up and carefully undoing the elaborate plaits and pins that twisted Legolas’ hair until it all hung down his back and spilled over his shoulders. He ran a caressing hand down the silky strands, and then back up, whereupon Haerelion cupped the back of Legolas’ head and dragged him in for a short, sweet kiss. He then proceeded to press both hands down and over to the front of Legolas’ dress tunic, to slowly undo each and every ornate silver button, never taking his eyes off of Legolas’ the entire time.

When the fine, silver and green tunic was finally pushed off little bit-by-bit, revealing smooth, muscled shoulders and a chiselled chest and stomach, Haerelion leant in to lay a soft kiss below Legolas’ collarbone, and then moved back.

Legolas recognised it as his turn to reach up and softly start unwinding all of Haerelion’s braids that he had put up hours before in honour of their ceremony. He took his time twisting his fingers through Haerelion’s hair, remembering all the times he had had to redo this hair when Haerelion had come to Legolas as a little boy with his tresses in a mess from the pell-mell way he would rush to Legolas’ side, wherever he was, like a hurricane unleashed.

He knew this hair better than his own; how it felt, how to brush it, how best to put it up when it was wet, or when it was five minutes before an important event or meeting that their father required their presence at and Haerelion had yet to understand the meaning of ‘keeping presentable for an hour’.

But Legolas found that he liked taking Haerelion’s hair apart just as much as putting it all up again. He mimicked Haerelion’s manoeuvre from before and pulled him in for a simple kiss by tugging him forward by his locks. His hands then moved languidly over Haerelion’s shoulders to start unbuttoning the other’s tunic as well, with buttons that started from his right shoulder and cascaded down into the middle before slipping off to the left, like a sash of fastenings down his front.

Legolas was careful and slow, never taking his eyes off of Haerelion’s as he gradually slipped the deep purple and green tunic off his spouse’s shoulders and pressed their equally bare chests together. Legolas reached up his left hand to cup Haerelion’s cheek just as Haerelion did the same, and they met for a much longer kiss this time. Eyes closed as they slowly moved with one another and against each other in an instinctual, sensual dance.

One thing they knew for sure, even as their minds filled with the images, feelings, and sensations of one another, of just being so close and ready to commit to each other in the final, most intimate act possible, was that they were going to take this nice and slow.

And they did.

...

For several days, Legolas and Haerelion spent their time leisurely exploring this new side of their bond, a side they thoroughly enjoyed. Sooner than later, though, they realised that they couldn’t put off meeting with their father any longer.

That morning saw Haerelion and Legolas finally plucking up the courage and leaping into the breach.

They entered the Halls from the kitchen entrance, not wanting to draw any attention to the recently married princes in case it all went pear shaped and they had to slip away with all haste. Their rucksacks were already packed and slung on a branch halfway up the tree of their talan.

One way or another they would both be leaving Greenwood today, whether as fugitives of their own land or as emigrants. They would be at the Gates of Beleg, which had once separated Northern Mirkwood from Southern, before nightfall. From there they would take the Old Forest Road that would lead them to the Anduin. They planned to follow the river south, stopping only for a last goodbye to Lórien and Fanghorn Forest before continuing on foot to Aglarond and the Glittering Caves to see Gimli. From there they would make their way to Aragorn and Arwen and then finally trek east through the lands of Gondor towards Ithilien.

By the time they reached Ithilien, a year or so would have passed. Haerelion had been most insistent that Legolas not leave Middle Earth without saying a proper farewell to its lands and his friends. Though they both knew that this would likely not be the last time they saw their friends, it was the final journey and the final gesture that was important, which Haerelion would not let Legolas ignore.

And by that time, the couple would know whether their father had accepted their choice and allowed for more elves to join them, or else they would send word to others, not just of elven descent, to come join them. Either way, they were leaving today.

The two slipped into the side entrance of the Great Hall, a passage only used by the royal family and guards, and were relieved to find their father alone.

“My sons,” the king cried, opening his arms to greet them. “What tidings bring you to my side again so soon after the bonding? Do you wish to move back into the Halls with me?” he asked hopefully; it was clear he believed his work of keeping Legolas at his side and away from the sea and the Valinor to be done. His marriage with the Silvan Prince Haerelion had guaranteed that.

The king sat back down on his throne, content and smiling, waiting for his sons to explain their unexpected visit.

But even guilt and sorrow of leaving one’s birthplace would not sway their feet from their intended course.

“No, father,” Legolas answered evenly.

“We actually have come to you with a request of another kind,” Haerelion picked up from Legolas. “Now that we have been married under the eyes of Eru and our elven-lord, we wish to make known our wish of seeking a different home.”

Fluidly, Legolas continued before their father could interrupt. “I had shared with you before my intent to build a community in Ithilien, along the River Anduin, with the final intention of building a ship and sailing into the West to greet my ancestors of old.”

“We wish to make that dream into a reality,” Haerelion smoothly took over, “and only ask for leave to permit some of our folk to join us in rebuilding the woods of the fair land of Ithilien and settling down a new elven community for some time to come.”

The king’s face was slowly darkening to a deep purple colour as the two spoke back and forth, not letting a breath pass between them. But as they finally fell silent and waited for the king’s reply, they realised just by looking at their father’s face that they already had his answer.

“No!” Their father burst out, springing up from his throne and taking a definitive stance. “You are my sons! You cannot leave. You cannot leave me!” He cried out desperately, the anguish audibly straining his voice. He strode forward determinedly and grasped Haerelion’s shoulders firmly. “Haerelion, Greenwood is your home, I raised you here. You were supposed to keep Legolas’ feet on Greenwood soil! You would not do this to me,” he said, shaking his son frantically, “You would not leave.”

Haerelion shook his head, letting himself be shaken without protest, as a single tear ran down his cheek. “I am sorry, Adar, it is what Legolas wants, and I cannot be parted from his side.”

“No!” Thranduil cried again. He turned his head to looking pleadingly at Legolas and implored lovingly, “Legolas, my son, you would not wander so far away from home as to never return to your dear ada. You will not leave me?”

Legolas stepped forward and gently pulled his spouse from his father’s grasp and held him to his chest tenderly.

“I promised you a century on Middle Earth, Adar. I will not abandon that promise, but my wish is to live those years out in Ithilien, where the Anduin is near, and the Andin leads to the Sea,” he cried, despair evident in his own voice as well. The Anduin had been a prayer said in his head for so long, yet now that it was so close within his grasp he could feel only misery at the pain his and Haerelion’s leaving was causing their adar. It was one thing to prepare oneself for the inevitable, but seeing the desperation so clear, so heart breaking on his adar’s face...

“I cannot fight this any longer, Adar,” he beseeched, shaking his head in desolation. “Though my heart and soul will never stray from Haerelion, my mind will not be at peace until I have crossed the Great Sea with Haerelion at my side.”

Thranduil took a staggering step back as his gaze switched back and forth between his two sons. He seemed at a complete loss on what to say. Everything was falling apart around him and all he could see were his children moving away from him.

“No!” he shouted fiercely with determined authority for the third time, pounding his fist down with force through the air in front of him. “I forbid either of you to leave.” He turned his head, a wild look in his eyes, and bellowed, “Guards!”

Legolas tightened his hold on Haerelion and turned his head just in time to see his spouse gazing fiercely back at him, clutching Legolas desperately.

“I wish we could just disappear,” Haerelion whispered plaintively, eying the guards rushing in through the outer doors on the other side of the hall.

Legolas looked from his father to the guards, and then around the rest of the room with a calculating stare as he wrought his mind for the best escape possible. They hadn’t exactly planned for this, Legolas thought, when an exclamation of alarm reverberated through the halls and stopped all movement.

Legolas looked up, assuming the guards were in a bind, shocked that they were being asked to subdue the Princes of Greenwood themselves. That is, until he heard his father bark, “Where did they go?!”

The guards’ heads swivelled left and right as they looked around the great room, but otherwise stood stock still and made no move to advance any further.

“They were there, just a second ago.” Their father pointed right at where they stood, but his eyes flickered blindly around as though he could no longer see them. “What happened?”

Legolas looked back over at Haerelion and saw that his husband had his eyes screwed up, still squeezing Legolas hard in his hold.

Legolas blinked and tried to wrap his head around the current situation. Was this miracle coming from Haerelion?

He knew he couldn’t think too long before the guards and their father were woken from their stupor and decided to look for them regardless, whether they could see them or not.

Using all the silence his kind were blessed with, Legolas swiftly ushered Haerelion back towards the secret doorway through which they had entered. By the time they passed under the archway behind the throne, Haerelion had opened his eyes and the guards were moving again, their light footfalls echoing in sync in the hall.

Legolas pressed a finger to Haerelion’s lips to silence the question he could see visibly blossoming on his lips, even as they remained invisible to all those around them.

‘We need to get out of here,’ Legolas mouthed, silently stealing through the kitchens, where not one elf batted an eyelash at their presence, and not just because it was not out of the ordinary. No one even looked their way, and any who did seemed to look right through them.

The couple quickly made their way back to the tree of their talan, climbed up halfway way to retrieve their bags, and escaped to the road towards their first destination. Neither elf looked back as they snuck away, doing their best not to make a noise as the sound of guard troops spilling from the castle met their ears. Of the few folk they passed, none of them gave Legolas or Haerelion a first glance, let alone a second.

Legolas quietly sighed, he hadn’t expected to be leaving this way, but he knew it would be that much worse to stay and he knew that making any sort of noise to alert others of their presence was a decidedly bad idea. Gripping Haerelion’s hand, they disappeared into the thicket.

...

It took them a good day’s journey, but eventually they reached the Gates of Beleg, only a few miles from the Old Forest Road. The Gates were more of a name than any actual structure, but if Legolas had to describe them he would point to the two tallest trees in the forest, one of beech and one of elm, whose branches intersected just past the point it would be considered perilous for an elf to climb.

Stopping for the night, Legolas turned to Haerelion and felt his heart stop.

Silent tears were streaming down Haerelion’s face, visible in the silvery opaque tracks coursing down his cheek that reflected the moonlight above. As Haerelion lifted a finger to wipe a path across Legolas’ cheek, he realised that his own were not dry either.

Moving to sit them both down on the loam carpet of the forest, Legolas dragged Haerelion into his lap and wrapped his arms securely around the younger elf’s waist, taking the moment to let their heart rates slow down from the nonstop running. Breathing in and out slowly, deeply, Legolas rested their foreheads together and closed his eyes, taking comfort in the fact that Haerelion was still with him and that despite whatever strange magic had happened, they could still see each other.

Opening his eyes finally, Legolas licked his lips and focused on remedying their current situation.

He granted the night its due respect and lowered his voice reverently to ask, “Can you, um, make us visible again?”

Haerelion shook his head in the negative while waving his hand over the two of them and Legolas realised, belatedly, that the gesture was not an indication of Haerelion’s magical abilities. He didn't know how he knew, but he was fairly certain that they were visible to others once more.

“I used magic against Adar,” Haerelion whispered frightfully, his eyes wide as he continued to stare unseeingly at a point below Legolas’ chin.

Feeling somewhat relieved that he was now able to identify the problem, Legolas took a finger under Haerelion’s chin and waited patiently until Haerelion’s eyes came back into focus and centred on his. Laying both hands gently on Haerelion’s face, he looked determinedly into his eyes and said, “Thank you”.

“Thank you,” he repeated when Haerelion started and made to break away. “What you did was wonderful. Don't doubt that,” he spoke sombrely, kissing the young elf’s lips softly for a moment that stretched in time. But eventually Legolas could feel his lover calming down again and he pulled back.

“We would have had a fight on our hands if it wasn't for you,” Legolas assured, sure the situation would be much worse if Haerelion hadn’t intervened as he had.

Haerelion did not make a comment, but took comfort in his presence and leaned in, allowing Legolas to wrap his arms around him once more before closing his eyes and whispering, just above the sound of a breeze, “But I’ve never done that before.”

Haerelion was shaking his head frantically again against Legolas’ shoulder and Legolas was at a loss again at what he was referring to.

Suddenly, Haerelion’s eyes shot open and he lifted his head to look directly at Legolas with a crazed, worried expression on his face. Whispering fiercely, he gripped Legolas’ arms in his hand and asked, “Legolas, how is this possible? I don’t remember reading any books about elves being able to render themselves invisible, even the Maiar. That’s not natural,” he emphasised. “Only the Rings of Power...What did I just do?”

Legolas lowered his eyes in thought. Yes, he had been giving this much thought during their silent flight from their ‘home’, but little had been made clear to him over the hours he’d dedicated to finding an answer for Haerelion when his partner asked.

But he did know one thing for certain because he knew Haerelion. “You’re magic is not an evil. It is a gift. We were invisible, yes, but we were not caught in the world of the wraiths like Frodo was when he put the Ring on. Sauron’s evil is gone. You are not related to him in any way. Do you understand?”

“We still don’t know who my parents were,” Haerelion argued agitatedly. “And this is not normal.”

Legolas held Haerelion all that much tighter as he whispered words he wasn’t entirely sure of yet, but wanted to believe with all his heart. “They were elves. You are a full-blooded elf. That’s all that matters. The bonding ceremony wouldn’t have been accepted so completely in the eyes of Eru, you know that.”

“But how is that?” Haerelion asked softly in a tone that sounded every bit defeated. “My magic is not inherently elven.”

“Yet you’re an elf,” Legolas finished for him in a tone that brook no argument.

With a sigh, he cradled Haerelion’s head in his hands again, twining his fingers through the loose strands of hair. “Let us not deliberate on it now,” Legolas said, touching his forehead down against his partner’s and breathing across the other’s lips. “It has been a trying day. Let us sleep for now and we shall continue on in the morning.”

It was left unsaid whether they would just be continuing on with the journey or the conversation, but it was rather imperative they continue both. Just after they had gotten some rest and time to think about it all. Haerelion was his first priority and it was obvious the price of magic, especially one so impressive, had taken its toll on his body.

Haerelion nodded acquiescingly and sank into Legolas’ hold, all the energy seemed to have been sapped out of him and Legolas felt his lover’s eyelashes skimming the skin on his neck as he fought off the pull of sleep.

Rolling out a blanket across the mossy ground, the two settled down to slumber; Legolas looking up into the bright, starry night sky – a million questions reflecting in his eyes – while Haerelion curled up into his side and pressed his face into Legolas’ chest.

They were so close to home, to the Halls of Greenwood, and yet never had Legolas felt so far away and disconnected from the rest of the world. The only thing that mattered, though, the only thing he could think about at the moment, was the one at his side. The one who would always be at his side. And that was all that counted.

.....

The sun shone across his eyes, making its way into his dreams long before Legolas realised it was morning. The warmth coming from the body pressed to his side and the sunlight falling gently from above had Legolas content to simply continue lying there.

As time was an immeasurable, unnecessary concept to his sleepy mind, Legolas wasn’t sure how long he lay there before the body next to him shifted, and a hand came up to play with his hair.

“Where are your thoughts this morning?” a comfortingly familiar voice breathed in his ear, bringing him through the last gateway between unconscious repose and the waking world.

Smiling, Legolas opened his eyes and calmly breathed in the deep scent of the early morning forest before turning his head to kiss the mouth that had greeted him awake. He replied, “With you, of course,” then sat up to stretch slowly and greet the fresh, crisp breeze that was dancing its way swiftly through the trees. Turning back to the elf still lying at his side, he asked, “Sleep well?”

The unspoken question of whether Haerelion felt any better from last night sang silently between the lines

Haerelion said nothing as he sat up to sit cross-legged, faced away from Legolas. With his head titled downward, looking blankly at the ground, Legolas could not read his expression; his emotions, however, were always open for Legolas to read. And currently they were in conflict. Thankfully though, Haerelion was much calmer this morning and his mind was much more composed and collected than last night.

“Our father has run us out of Greenwood,” Haerelion intoned quietly, his entire body tense, not moving a muscle, like a speaking statue. His posture scared Legolas, but not so much as the words spoken that truly hit home in ways he hadn’t been able to process last night.

They had as good as lost their father.

A heavy silence stretched between them as their situation became aired out in the open morning light. After a night’s sleep and a moment to stop and think, everything suddenly became much more real. They could no longer go back, even if they had wanted to, they could only move forward now.

That had been their plan from the start, to settle in Ithilien for the rest of their time in Middle Earth until they chose to cross the Great Sea. But to know that they would never be welcome back in Greenwood without their father locking them up was a sobering thought.

“I’m sorry,” Legolas said, knowing it wouldn't be enough, recognising all that Haerelion was giving up to be with him, but it was all he had to give at the moment.

Haerelion stirred from his frozen position and turned around to look directly at Legolas. Cracking a small, understanding albeit sad, smile, he nudged his way back to Legolas’ side and took his hand lovingly, rubbing a warm thumb over the soft skin on the back.

“Don't be, love. We knew he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight, and our marriage must have led him to the irrefutable conclusion that I had gotten you to stay somehow.

“I think he was in shock more than anything else. But,” Haerelion moved closer to Legolas and slipped an arm around him, “he knew you had to leave eventually. He just never expected me to go with you.”

Nothing more was said; nothing more could be said that wouldn’t make the present situation worse. The only plausible thing to do now was to get up and continue on; they still had a month’s journey ahead of them before they reached the halls of King Elessar. But before Legolas could get up and reach for his pack, Haerelion had reached up, took his head in his hands, and brought him in for a strong, soul-searing kiss.

When they broke, Legolas couldn't keep the silly grin off his face, despite the sombre thoughts still stalking around in his head. “What was that for?”

Haerelion just smiled and walked over to where they had dropped their bags last night.

“To remind you that I’m not going anywhere,” he hoisted the pack on his back and handed Legolas his as well before adding, “And that you’re not going anywhere without me, either.”

And though their father had not accepted their decision to leave, and Haerelion’s heritage was much more complicated than they thought, they wouldn’t let themselves get lost in the pain because in the end, they were lucky to have one another. They still had a family in each other. Haerelion would be in his arms again tonight, and every night, with no plans of either of them ever changing that.

With a calming balm of hope in his heart, Legolas shouldered his pack and looked ahead down the forest path they would continue on.

“To Ithilien, and then the Sea.”

...  
19 years later  
...

Legolas had not seen the sea since that tumultuous week in Anfalas with Haerelion over 50 years ago. He had chosen to keep it that way and stick to his promise by creating a new home for himself, Haerelion, and all those who wished to join them in Ithilien. The closest he had come to the sea for the last 50 years was by the waters of the Anduin.

It had been almost five years to the day that Legolas and Haerelion had slipped past view from their father’s court, that King Thranduil sent a missive and a party of 50 elves to Ithilien. He would not come in person, for the king of Greenwood does not leave Greenwood once he claims the throne; a law Legolas’ grandfather had put into place upon coming to Greenwood. But the gesture itself spoke volumes. Not to mention the note, lamenting their gaping absence in Greenwood and humbly asking forgiveness for a father’s blind love, foolish hopes, and rash words.

Haerelion and Legolas both mourned the loss of that relationship with their father and the other part of their world that he chose never to know, recognising that they would not be returning to Greenwood before they departed into the West. But they kept in contact with him through many letters over the years, and their minds were at least put at ease to know they were not leaving with words left unsaid.

Haerelion had been accurate in his prediction of Ithilien thriving under their care as the fairest community in Middle Earth. Like the Glittering Caves, peoples of all races were welcomed in, but the majority of its inhabitants were elves who dedicated their time and care to bringing beauty and life back to the land.

It was at least seven years before Ithilien was successfully flourishing, aided much by the help of the Elves of Greenwood, and another five before the fame of its beauty and welcoming community was known across the lands. But finally, after 19 years, Legolas and Haerelion were ready to step down and say goodbye to Ithilien and Middle Earth once and for all.

Farewells had been exchanged with their friends, as the remaining members of the Fellowship gathered on the shores of Lebennin to see them off on the ship the couple had built for this very purpose. A small schooner framed in red cedar, 10 meters in length; she was a good, sturdy ship that would carry them safely across the Belegaer.

When it came to the final moments, though, Gimli and Legolas’ parting was surely the hardest. Haerelion knew that had Legolas waited even another hundred years, Gimli would be boarding with them. He felt a small stab of guilt that he should be the lucky one awarded the place of honour by Legolas’ side, but his excitement was too great to be contained or subdued. He was most eager to meet Mithrandir, Frodo, and the rest of Legolas’ friends from the Fellowship.

A hand fell heavy upon his shoulder and Haerelion looked up to see Aragorn, the Ranger King, and somewhat of a mentor that Haerelion had looked up to since meeting him all those years ago. His own son, Eldarion, had become good friends with Haerelion, and they had grown up together in many ways. Father and son had both been there for the couple since they left Greenwood, and they would, by far, be among the small group that he and Legolas would miss the most.

Unfortunately, Eldarion had to stay behind in Gondor to watch the throne while Aragorn and Arwen came to bid the couple farewell. Haerelion had already said his goodbyes to his friend and brother weeks before when they’d visited the White City for the last time. It had been one of the hardest goodbyes he’d made.

Looking now up into Aragorn’s kind, slightly lined face, and seeing past the regal king to the devoted father and husband, Haerelion felt another stone drop in his stomach. There were so many people they were leaving behind. Haerelion had pledged long ago that he would follow Legolas to the ends of the world, and he would never fall back on his word, but that didn’t make leaving behind everyone he cherished in his life any easier.

“Take care of him, Haerelion,” Aragorn said in rough, emotion-filled voice. “It is not easy saying goodbye to friends so dear to my heart, but I will rest easier knowing that you are with him.” Aragorn squeezed his shoulder lovingly and Haerelion looked up to see Arwen nodding at him a few feet away in agreement with her husband. “All I ask is that even when a millennia has gone by and we are all dead and gone, that you still remember us.”

Haerelion smiled tightly and swallowed past the lump in his throat to answer, “How could we possibly forget you,” Haerelion trailed off after that, not able to get any more words out coherently. One would think in a hundred years he would have been well prepared for this eventual departure, but seeing the same fondness reflected back in Aragorn’s eyes made it that much harder.

But Aragorn seemed to understand, because he pulled Haerelion in for a warrior’s embrace and gently bestowed the blessing of a kiss on his forehead, much like he would if it were his own son setting out for a long journey. Only from this journey there would be no return.

Eventually all goodbyes had been said and Haerelion and Legolas stood back from the group, surveying their friends one last time. Haerelion couldn’t help but think, ‘this was it’. He was still so young, only a hundred summers; a young elf just reached adulthood in the eyes of his people. And here he was taking a journey reserved for the elders of his race who had suffered great loss or hardship. He wasn’t ready in so many ways. If not for Legolas’ presence in his heart, his soul would be crying vehemently at the fundamental wrongness of leaving Middle Earth. But he couldn’t possibly change his mind now. He had cemented his place at Legolas’ side and he wouldn't leave.

There were no more words to be spoken, and Haerelion was sure that even if he tried he wouldn’t be able to produce anything but silence.

Legolas seemed to feel the same, but the melancholy he was feeling was also laced with the thrill of excitement, fulfilled destinies, and good things to come.

Which is why it was no surprise for Haerelion to suddenly see Legolas, eyes alight with adventure and anticipation, turn from his friends and face the open sea before him. His utter elation in the moment was palpable. Holding his head high, he bound towards the makeshift platform leaning against the side of the ship, crying,

 _“To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,_  
 _The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying._  
 _West, west away, the round sun is falling._  
 _Great ship, great ship, I hear you calling,_  
 _The voices of my people that have gone before me,_  
 _I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;_  
 _For our days are ending and our years failing._  
 _We will pass the wide waters boldly sailing._  
 _Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,_  
 _Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,_  
 _In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover_  
 _Where the leaves fall not: land of my people_ for ever _”_

Haerelion laughed at his love’s antics, his heart momentarily feeling a little lighter at the reminder that he was not going alone. He would be with the person he loved the most in his life.

Hearing the tearful chuckles of his friends behind him, Haerelion turned his head to watch Legolas bound ahead and climb aboard the red schooner, where he stopped for a moment as he stepped on deck, to gaze longingly at the steady horizon.

It was time.

Haerelion turned to smile at all those present one last time and then followed Legolas aboard.

This was not the great Grey Ships, but it would do perfectly for two. As Legolas pulled the short platform on deck, Haerelion moved to drop the sails. Working around each other, they swiftly prepared the ship to set sail. At long last, Haerelion took the finishing task upon himself and released a bit of magic to lend wind to the sails, finally pushing their ship from shore.

All was quiet as they listened to the wood slowly scrape across the bottom sand and rocks in the shallow waters, and then break free to deeper depths. The wind started to blow fiercely in the sails, beating against the canvas like drums that echoed back to land.

And then they were moving.

Standing together on deck, leaning against the gunwale, Legolas and Haerelion waved their final farewells until those on shore could not see them anymore and the couple let their last glance of Middle Earth burn into their memories forever.

Giving one last fond gaze of parting to the distant shore, Haerelion closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the briny, ocean air, the wood and resin of the ship, and the fresh scent of canvas from the sails. He listened to the creaking of the mast being pulled by the ropes and wood settling in the water, the gentle slap of the waves against the hull as it moved with the wind, and felt the salty mist lightly spitting at him from all sides.

And for once, it made sense. Legolas’ love of the sea was more than just a symbolic longing to join their people in the Undying Lands: Haerelion could hear the crying of the seagulls, the whisper of the winds, and the song of the Sea. And it all made sense. It all came together in a beautiful symphony that was beckoning him forward, summoning him to its depths.

“The Sea,” Haerelion breathed, recalling Legolas’ words from years ago, “once it casts its spell, holds your very soul in its net of wonder forever. And how could you ever wish to be let go?”

Warm arms wrapped around him from behind and a familiar chin pressed into his shoulder to look upon the same horizon.

The waters were calm and their heading was set, with no one else in the waters with them, so Haerelion did not worry for the moment that no one was at the helm.

“Where are your thoughts now?” Haerelion asked his husband softly, sure that he was about to be serenaded with another sonnet about the beauty of the sea and the calling of the West. But he was amusingly surprised when no such thing was whispered in his ear.

“With you, of course,” Legolas said, turning his head on Haerelion’s shoulder to look at his profile. “Are you okay?”

Haerelion knocked his head back softly against Legolas’ and smiled. Thinking for a moment, Haerelion let the seconds draw out before deciding to respond in the way Legolas would understand best, with words of rhyme and meaning slightly obscured.

_“The time has come, the Walrus said,_   
_to talk of many things;_   
_Of shoes –and ships – and sealing wax –_   
_Of cabbages – and kings –_   
_And why the sea is boiling hot –_   
_And whether pigs have wings”_

Chuckling in amused perplexity, Legolas tightened his hold on Haerelion and asked, “And where did you come up with that?”

Haerelion shrugged. “You have your poetry and I have mine.”

A few seconds later, in response to Legolas’ expectant, waiting silence, Haerelion added, “I’m not sure, it kind of just popped into my head from somewhere...”

“Hmm.” Legolas released Haerelion and moved to stand next to him, gripping the gunwale in his hands. “I suppose that is all I can expect to get from you for now.”

Haerelion followed Legolas’ lead and closed his eyes again to focus on the feel of salty spray misting skin. He could tell Legolas that he felt like he was leaving part of himself behind, a price to pay for stepping into a new adventure that was calling him – them – to uncover the secrets of the deep blue sea. He could tell Legolas that he wished his arms were longer so that he could reach down and scoop up the white foam cresting the waves beating past the hull. He could tell Legolas that he was content just being there with him and was eager to meet Mithrandir to find out more about his heritage. He could tell Legolas that he looked out upon the sea just now and couldn’t imagine how he’d managed to ignore its beauty and alluring, spellbinding song for all this time. It was riveting.

In fact, if it were up to him, he may never want to reach land again. Maybe it had something to do with the marriage bond. Maybe now that it was finally happening Haerelion was letting himself see all the wonder he’d purposefully turned a blind eye to before, in fear that it would take Legolas from his side forever.

But now he had no such fears, and none of it really mattered anymore; he knew Legolas was his.

Turning his head to look at Legolas, who was staring out at the miles and miles of waves in constant motion, mapped out before them with a look of utter bliss on his face, Haerelion said softly, “I’m great.”

Legolas looked quickly over in surprise, a happy smile blooming on his face, his eyes searching Haerelion’s for the honesty in his words.

“You mean that?” Legolas asked, just as softly, the lapping waves and blustering winds making more noise than his voice projected.

A childish smile sprang on his face in answer and Haerelion jerked softly as he felt the wind pick up and the ship start moving a bit faster, though still staying on course. Feeding into the sails, Haerelion added his own extra push, and then it was like they were flying!

The waves pushing up onto the sides of the ship were splashing higher than before and Haerelion had an idea. Leaning forward, he reached his arm out to scoop up the top spray from the waves, which pushed down upon his hand with a force he was not expecting. Smiling in spite of himself, he flicked the water in his hands up at Legolas’ face, hitting him right on his forehead and nose, and then danced out of the way to the other side of the deck before his spouse could retaliate.

He heard a cry of surprised laughter mixed with mock indignation follow him from behind, and managed to almost make it to the stern before Legolas got him in the back of the neck with a fistful of water.

“Hah!” Haerelion lurched forward in shock at the coldness and spun around, set on tackling Legolas to the deck, but the older elf was quicker.

They spent several more minutes chasing each other around the small deck, quick footed and light, until Haerelion made an unexpected getaway by climbing up the main-mast, until he stood balancing at the very top, looking out at the surrounding blue.

He couldn’t see any land in any direction, and it felt like they were the only two in the world. Haerelion looked down and chuckled at the disgruntled look Legolas was sending him for going somewhere he couldn’t follow. Even an elf could not balance in a spot where there was no more space to stand. But Legolas would get his turn next; Haerelion was sure he was currently kicking himself for not thinking of it first.

They would each have plenty of time to explore every inch of this ship and find out what it felt like to have the wind at their backs, the sea beneath their feet, and nothing but each other to pass the time.

Haerelion hoped they were on this ship for a long time to come.

...  
You belong with me, not swallowed in the Sea  
...

~ To be Continued ~


End file.
